Where the Merlin Cries
by Lindelea1
Summary: Complete: The Story of Fastred and Elanor, and how The Westmarch became a part of the Shire
1. Sheep May Safely Graze

**Where the Merlin Cries  
  
***  
  
1. Sheep May Safely Graze**  
  
Reginard Took warily showed the proud young hunter into the Thain's study. At a look from the steward, Ferdibrand sat straighter at his desk, a hound come to the point, ready. Thain Peregrin, on the other hand, rose from his chair behind the ornately carven desk with a smile.  
  
'How may I help you?' he said politely.  
  
Without the usual preliminaries, the young hobbit got right to business. 'We're having a bit of trouble with ruffians,' he said.  
  
The Thain cocked his head slightly to one side. 'I beg your pardon,' he said mildly, 'but I did not catch your name.'  
  
The young hunter seethed with irritation; he knew very well that his name and his business had been announced to the Thain before he had been allowed to enter the study. Through gritted teeth, he said, 'Fastred of Greenholm.' The Thain raised an eyebrow, and waited. Belatedly, the hunter added, '...at your service.' Reginard Took cleared his throat behind him, and Fastred said at last, 'Sir.'  
  
The Thain nodded, and with a slight smile, said, 'And at your family's. Have a seat, Fastred.' He looked to the steward. 'Regi, would you order us some tea, or...' looking back to his guest, 'perhaps you would prefer ale?'  
  
'Tea's fine,' the young hunter said. Every fibre of his body signalled his impatience and disdain for the protocol he'd been forced to endure.  
  
Reginard bowed with elaborate courtesy and left the study. Ferdi maintained his watchful mien. The Thain turned his attention to his chancellor. 'Ferdi, how are those crop reports coming?'  
  
Fastred held tight to the remaining shreds of his temper whilst the Thain calmly discussed mundane matters with his chancellor, but meeting the latter's eyes, he recognised, with a shock, the look of a fellow hunter. He might be sitting quietly, behind a desk, dressed in fancy togs for the harvest holiday, but his eyes were alert, his body relaxed but ready, like a bowstring that needs only to be pulled back and released in one swift motion to send the arrow speeding on its deadly path.  
  
There was a knock at the door, and a deferential servant poked his head in. 'Sorry to disturb, Sir,' he said apologetically to the Thain, 'but something's come up...'  
  
Thain Peregrin rose smoothly from his chair with an apology to his guest. 'I won't be long,' he said. Fastred managed to jerk his chin in a nod.  
  
After the door closed behind the Thain, he met the watching eyes of the chancellor once more. He could just see the faint white rope scars on the other's neck. 'You're the one they call the Fox,' he said shortly.  
  
The other smiled. 'They used to call me that, a long time ago,' he answered.  
  
'They still call you that, out past the Far Downs,' Fastred said, his tone one of grudging admiration. 'We could use spirit like yours about now.'  
  
The other nodded, then turned his attention back to his scribing. Fastred looked about the study. One whole wall was bookshelves, more books than he'd ever seen in his life. It made him want to jump up from his chair, to see so many books in one place. Ah, well, at least nobody was making _him_ read one of them. Windows took up much of another wall, offering a panoramic view of Tuckborough and the Green Hill country beyond. Covering a great deal of another wall was a large map of the Shire, the Thain's realm. Fastred snorted softly to himself. He would never have imagined such a mild-spoken fellow to command the entire Shire. Still, the Tooks must have something... they had kept the ruffians completely out of Tookland during the Troubles.  
  
When his eyes returned to the chancellor, he found the other watching him again. 'I'm not about to steal anything,' he said in irritation.  
  
Ferdi smiled briefly. The fellow was touchy enough to be a Took himself. 'Of course you're not,' he said. 'That would hardly be good manners, now would it?' Fastred frowned at the implication that his manners had been wanting up until now, but he took the point. When the Thain returned, he rose from the chair as a gesture of respect, and remained standing until he was invited to be seated again.  
  
The tea tray arrived with the steward, and tea was poured with appropriate solemnity and attention to niceties.  
  
Once the Thain had seen his guest served, and sipped his tea, and nodded dismissal to the servant bearing the tea tray, he sat back in his chair.  
  
'So, Fastred of Greenholm,' he said, and though the tone was one of polite indifference, the glance was shrewd. 'You are having trouble with ruffians, are you?'  
  
'Yes... Sir,' he said. 'I'm sure _you_ don't see any trouble, with all those great oafs of King's Men guarding your borders. Anyhow, the ruffians have decided the Shire is too much work to pillage, so they've turned their attention to the Westmarch instead.'  
  
It was true, the King's edict had been bloodily enforced by his guardsmen, who'd lost some of their own to treacherous ruffians, and of late there had been no report of rogue Men entering the Shire.  
  
'If the wolves cannot have the sheep in the pasture, they'll look for the wild sheep outside the bounds,' the Thain said. 'And we're to blame for your troubles, I take it?'  
  
Fastred was startled by the other's perceptiveness. He _did_ resent the hobbits of the Shire, sitting fat and happy behind their walls, guarded by sheepdogs, letting themselves be protected like helpless children, subjects and servants of a faraway King. _Servants_. The thought made him grit his teeth. How could they bear to live without freedom?  
  
These hobbits were serene enough, but they neither looked fat, nor soft. Though mild-looking, even bored, as if he were too lazy to pay much heed to matters of importance, the one who sat before him, the most powerful hobbit in the Shire, had a core of fine steel, the young hunter suspected. He'd seen the same look in his own father's eyes, in the half-remembered days before the ruffians came, before he'd been struck down.  
  
'I didn't say that,' he answered at last.  
  
The Thain smiled. 'Then you came here to look for aid?' he asked.  
  
The other bristled, but as the Thain said nothing more, letting the question hang between them, Fastred finally mastered himself, nodding once, hating to admit that the free and independent hobbits west of the Far Downs needed anything at all, much less help from a bunch of molly-coddled sheep.  
  
'What was that?' the Thain said quietly.  
  
'Aye,' Fastred forced himself to say.  
  
Another knock at the door, another deferential servant. 'Sorry to disturb, Sir, but they're ready for you now.'  
  
The Thain nodded, drained his tea cup, set it down precisely on the saucer. 'If you'll excuse me,' he said, 'you've caught me at rather an awkward time. You see, the Mayor is waiting to open the harvest celebration, and I must be there.'  
  
Fastred nodded. He was surprised the hobbit had agreed to see him at all. Now he was to be sent away with a pat on the head, a condolence perhaps, _Hope you have better luck against the ruffians, we'll be thinking of you as we sit by our cheery hearths and eat of the fruit of our labours. What? You all are starving? Whyever did you let those ruffians steal all your crops, anyhow?_  
  
But no, the Thain was gesturing to him. 'Why don't you come along? We'll talk further after I've fulfilled my responsibilities. Of course you'll be staying the night... Ferdi, find him a room? ...and then bring him down to the celebration. He might like to meet the Mayor.'


	2. Stay with Us for It is Nearly Evening

Note to Readers:  
  
Good to see comments already, on chapter 1. Very encouraging. Kept me from abandoning the story in despair whilst in the throes of chapter 2.  
  
Savannah, welcome to our cosy parlour. Take that easy chair over there... how do you like your tea? Very nice review, incisive comments. Yes, it is a delight to take a name, the barest skeleton of a fact, and flesh it out, breathe life into it, see what springs forth.   
**  
**Marion, good comments. You know, I researched the Westmarch, read everything I could get my hands on, and this is what I came up with... the Westmarch could well have been called that even before it was settled. Does your source say that Fastred and Elanor _named_ Westmarch, or merely settled it? It makes a difference. I figured that the hobbits on the Far Downs wouldn't necessarily stay tight within their borders (sheep stray, after all) with all those rolling hills of fine green grass beckoning to them. They might not settle outside the Shire, but why not make some use of that inviting, empty land? So it could have been called The Westmarch on the maps, without anyone actually living there. In my thoughts about the story, I decided that Fastred's father was the one who put the new settlement into his head... it was his father's dream before it was his, and so very logical for him to carry it out, in part, a way of honouring his father's memory, do you think? OTOH, if I have made a canon error, please let me know and I will do my best to fix it.   
**  
**Aratfeniel, thanks for the encouragement! It helped me to keep going when I was about ready to chuck the whole story because chapter 2 was giving me fits...   
**  
**Xena, another faithful review. Thanks so much. He is a hunter, indeed... have you ever looked up Merlins (the hawks) on the internet? They are fascinating birds.   
**  
**Aemilia Rose, hullo! Good to hear from you. I have not read a story about Fastred and Elanor, either (if I had, I probably would not be writing one). I certainly hope to do it justice. I can see it all very clearly, now if I can just write it...   
**  
**Dana, thanks for the lovely review. You're right, Fastred and the younger Ferdi from Flames have an awful lot in common...  
**  
  
2. Stay with Us for It is Nearly Evening**  
  
After dropping his bag at the room, Fastred walked with Ferdibrand out of the Smials. They made their way in silence, but Fastred noted how the other's eyes took in every detail around them.  
  
They crossed the stones of the courtyard before the Smials, to the large field, studded with colourful fabric booths, alive with noise and motion and mouthwatering smells. They passed through the busy fair to the racecourse, already crowded with hobbits awaiting the official start of the celebration. Many had found vantage points on the hill overlooking the course, or in one of the nearby trees.  
  
Fastred would have had little luck trying to push through the crowd to see what was happening, had he been by himself, but the Tooks and Tooklanders gave way before his guide, with polite nods for the Thain's chancellor. They reached the front of the crowd, finally, and Ferdi indicated that they would watch from there.  
  
The Thain stood with the steward slightly behind him. Another hobbit who looked slightly familiar was on the Thain's right, and as this one lifted his arms to gain the attention of the crowd, Fastred realised that he was looking at the Mayor. The latter had opened a festival at Greenholm some years back, but such a small community could not often command a visit from the Mayor, who had more calls on his time than he could fill.  
  
Now the Mayor spoke, and the crowd quieted quickly.  
  
'Ladies, and gentlehobbits!' he shouted. 'Tooks and Tooklanders! We thank you for your welcome and hospitality!' Tooklanders raised a shout. 'Hobbits of the Four Farthings, we thank you for coming to celebrate the end of harvest on this fine day!' All the rest of the hobbits gave a cheer. The Mayor grinned, then, and bowed to the Thain. 'Let us thank Thain Peregrin and his Mistress for hosting us this day.' A great cheer swelled as the Thain acknowledged the crowd. 'I, Mayor Samwise of the Shire, now declare the festivities to be open!' All the hobbits raised their voices in glad acclamation.  
  
The Thain put a hand on the Mayor's shoulder and spoke close to his ear; the Mayor nodded, looking directly at Fastred and his guide, then back to the Thain. Then Mayor Samwise turned to speak to those behind him. Fastred saw several bright heads in the little group, evidently the Mayor's family. While many golden-haired children had been born in the Shire some thirty years ago, it seemed the Mayor's family had been especially blessed. At the same time, the Thain spoke to a tall lad beside him, and the lad began to herd several smaller hobbits before him towards the bright booths.  
  
'Right, then,' Ferdi said. 'Business done, now the fun can begin.' He moved across the space to the dignitaries, Fastred belatedly realising he was expected to follow, and stumbling to catch up. Two of the taller lasses behind the Mayor were smiling, and he thought it must be at his clumsiness; he set his lips in irritation. Thought they were so high and mighty, did they? Above other commoner folk, he supposed. Born in the lap of luxury, never knew a day's work or discomfort, probably.  
  
'Mayor Samwise, may I present Fastred of Greenholm,' Ferdibrand said, coming up to the little group.   
  
The mayor nodded, saying pleasantly, 'Just call me Sam. Most folk do.'  
  
'Thank you, Sir,' Fastred replied.  
  
'Sam,' the Mayor prompted.  
  
'Sam,' Fastred said, uncomfortable, aware of the eyes upon him, seeing the breeze teasing at the golden hair. He tried to keep his eyes fixed on the Mayor, but how they wanted to stray.  
  
'Rose,' the Mayor said, 'Take the children around the fair. We will join you later at the feast.' The Mayor's wife answered with a smile of her own, and began to shoo her brood before her, from tallest tweens down to smallest. The eldest lad had noticed Fastred's stare; he took possession of the tallest daughters' arms, tucking them securely into his own as they walked away, while one of the lasses giggled and protested, 'Frodo! I can very well mind my own feet...'  
  
'Let us walk,' the Thain said, then, and taking Fastred between them, Mayor Samwise and Thain Peregrin began to stroll away from the festive booths, Ferdi and Regi falling in behind.  
  
The annual Tookland Pony Sale took place together with the harvest festival, and as they crossed to the far side of the track, they strolled past caravans and picketed ponies, hopeful hobbits already looking over what was on offer, and sellers singing the praises of their charges to the passers-by.  
  
The Thain stopped abruptly to admire a fine head. 'Lovely,' he breathed. 'Good lines.' He stepped up to the pony, and at a nod from the hobbit that held the beast, he ran a hand from the shoulder down the foreleg, nodding to himself, then stepped back for another look at the beast.  
  
'Oughter be,' the seller answered. 'His great-great-grandsire was your own fine pony, Sir.'  
  
'Socks?' the Thain said in astonishment.  
  
'O aye,' the seller answered, amused. He put a finger to the side of his nose. 'There was a little matter of a fence that got jumped, and...'  
  
'Ah,' the Thain said, light breaking on his face. He frowned. 'As I recall, my father compensated the owners of all the mares involved...' Shaking his head, the frown turned to a chuckle. '...when they ought to have paid a stud fee, as it turns out.'  
  
'Aye,' the seller grinned. 'Fine lot of foals resulted, all fast and strong. But very spirited!'  
  
'Just like their sire,' Pippin said wistfully. He still missed the old pony. 'How much?'  
  
'For you, Sir...' the seller made a great show of considering. He named a price and Fastred had a hard time containing his shock.  
  
'Special price just for me, eh?' the Thain said, eyeing the other sharply. He shook his head and started to turn away, and the seller said quickly, 'But Sir, he won the pony races this year...'  
  
'At that price, he ought to have,' the Thain answered. 'I'll give you half.' It was still an enormous amount, to Fastred's thinking, but the seller acted as if he'd been deeply wounded.  
  
The twain dickered back and forth until a price was settled upon, and then at a look from the Thain, Ferdi took several gold coins from a pouch that hung from his belt and paid the seller, taking from him the lead rope. 'I'll just see this lad safely back to the stables and catch up with you,' he said.  
  
'But...' the seller protested, only to see Ferdi vault onto the bare back of the pony, knee the creature around, and lean into a canter towards the Smials. 'No saddle or bridle,' the seller breathed. 'Won't he break his neck?' Evidently not. Even as they watched, the pony vaulted the fence around the racecourse and continued at a good clip around the grand curve, slowing as he reached the gap in the fence where the racers entered, prancing along the circumference of the fairground towards the stables.  
  
'Is the chancellor not getting enough exercise?' Samwise asked as they walked away, reaching the end of the rows of ponies on offer, and out into the field, away from the fair and the sale and the bustle of hobbits on holiday.  
  
Pippin answered, 'The trouble is, he's bored. No real challenges to sink his teeth into, these days, with everything so quiet in the Shire.'  
  
The Mayor nodded and turned to Fastred. 'I understand you are having some trouble with ruffians,' he said.  
  
'Yes, Sir... Sam,' Fastred responded. 'We of Greenholm and the Far Downs had been farming in the Westmarch for some time, now, for the land stretched before us and it seemed a pity to let so much go to waste...'  
  
'I'd imagine it started with a shepherd, looking at all that good green grass on the far side of the Bounds,' Pippin said. 'Or perhaps a few sheep strayed in that direction, and following them, the herders could see no reason not to bring the whole flock out that way.'  
  
'It is good grass,' Fastred said. 'And someone's grandfather, or perhaps his grandfather's grandfather, took some sacks of acorns and planted stands of trees here and there, a few, and long enough ago that the trees are nicely grown. Might have been a woodcarver thinking of his grandchildren's children. There's quite a lovely little woods following the stream from the Far Downs to the River Lune.'  
  
'Yes, I can imagine the river bottom would be well-watered,' Sam said thoughtfully.  
  
'So the land is not quite as empty as one would think,' Pippin said. 'But there have always been some adventurous souls... however would the Shire have been settled in the first place, otherwise?'  
  
'Well, there are no settlements, really,' Fastred said. 'Even before the ruffians came, people chose to keep their homes in Greenholm and go out to farm or graze or chop, but come back again in time for supper. Starting a new town is a large untertaking, and not one to be taken lightly.' He remembered hearing the arguments between his father and his uncles. 'Some of the bolder ones would venture further into the land, live in caravans for the growing season, and return to town for the winter. But the ruffians have put a stop to that.'  
  
He told of the raids. Several hobbits had been killed, trying to defend their holdings from the ruffians' night attacks, but most had fled back to their winter homes within the borders of the Shire.  
  
'What have your Shirriffs reported about our Western border?' the Thain asked the Mayor, and Fastred suddenly remembered that the office of First Shirriff was attached to the mayoralty: he was head of the Watch. His brother's caution came to him, then, that the Thain did nothing without a purpose. Meeting the Mayor was not just social obligation, it seemed.   
  
'No ruffians have tried to cross the Bounds,' Sam said slowly. 'There were reports of hobbits being killed beyond the border, but the Shirriffs aren't allowed to cross the line, at least, not officially.'  
  
'The ruffians haven't needed to cross the Bounds!' Fastred snapped. 'They have easy pickings in the fields beyond the border. Whole flocks have vanished, into their bellies, probably, and croplands have been stripped.'  
  
'I'm surprised they'd do that much work,' Pippin said.  
  
'At first they let the hobbits harvest their own crops, and merely stole the full waggons as the farmers drove them Shirewards,' Fastred said. 'Since the hobbits have stopped harvesting, the ruffians have had to do a bit of work to take our crops; but in any event, we'll be short of food this winter. We had begun to rely on those crops to our West... and now the farmers daren't stir out of the Bounds to gather them in.' It rankled. There was good land out west, land for the taking; for some reason empty, but fertile and fair, fair as far as he'd ridden towards the Sea with his father before the ruffians came.  
  
His father had dreamed of settling there, starting a town, a new beginning... before the ruffians came and struck him down as he defended his fields.  
  
'Have the guardsmen seen aught?' the Thain asked, but the Mayor shook his head.   
  
'Nothing has been reported to me,' he answered. 'I'll send a message to Bergil, see what he has to say.'  
  
'There have been no attacks on the Shire proper,' Fastred said, 'not on the Western Bounds, anyhow. The ruffians always strike beyond the Far Downs. They strike only hobbits, and the guardsmen do not bother them, since their orders are to guard what lies within the borders.'  
  
'They are bound to their orders,' Sam said quietly. 'They cannot leave their posts, unless they actually see ruffians committing mischief.'  
  
'And the ruffians are too clever for that,' Fastred said bitterly. 'They strike only out of sight of the border, and so have no worries.'  
  
'I do not see what you expect me to do,' the Thain said.  
  
'Call a muster of hobbits!' Fastred said angrily. 'Drive them out!'  
  
'They are not in the Shire,' Pippin said. 'My hands are tied... my authority ends at the Bounds.'  
  
'But...' Fastred sputtered. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. 'You're going to _give_ the land to the ruffians?' he said through his teeth.  
  
'The land is not mine to give,' the Thain answered quietly. 'If it were a part of the Shire...'  
  
'You want more land to rule over,' Fastred said, bitterness rising in his heart. 'You offer to protect our crops, in return for us adding our meat to your stew pot.'  
  
The steward bristled and the Mayor looked very sober, but the Thain only shook his head. 'I'm stuck with what I've got to chew,' he said honestly, 'full up to here.' He held an expressive hand to his chin. 'I do not need your meat.' At the other's shocked expression, he sighed, and did a surprising thing.  
  
Taking off the heavy ring that was seal and signet of the Thain, he held it out to Fastred. 'Go ahead,' he said, 'put it on.' Fastred shook his head slowly. Surely the other had taken leave of his senses. Thain Peregrin smiled faintly. 'What's the matter?' he asked. 'Don't you want the Thainship?' He laughed, a humourless sound, at the horror on Fastred's face. 'I thought not,' he said, putting the ring back on his hand. 'Do you really think I'd want to add to my holdings?' He shook his head again. 'I'm only Thain because _someone_ has to be.' He held up a restraining hand to silence what the steward had been about to say and turned to walk away.  
  
'Let him go,' the Mayor said softly. 'He hates the ruffians, hates them with a passion very un-hobbitlike, but he does not yet see his way clear to helping you. Give him some time to think.'  
  
'Did someone mention ruffians?' Chancellor Ferdibrand said brightly from behind them. 'Tell me more...'


	3. Prepare the Way, Prepare the Course

**3. Prepare the Way, Prepare the Course**  
  
Fastred had spent two fuming days after the festival at the Great Smials, two frustrating days, waiting for the Thain to make some kind of decision. What was taking so long? Either call a muster of hobbits, ride out onto the Westmarch, roust the ruffians, and ride home again, or pat him on the head and send him home with empty sympathy. It should not be that difficult or time-consuming to come to a decision. What was Thain Peregrin waiting for?  
  
He ate in the great room, with the crowd of Tooks, seated at one of the lower tables, of course. His eyes strayed often to the head table, where the Thain and his family, and the Mayor and his family were seated, and sometimes watching eyes caught him staring, and he dropped his own eyes, furious at the discovery. The Mayor's eldest daughters held a fascination for him, but until they were introduced (and that hardly seemed likely), all he could do was gaze from afar.  
  
He noticed there were others who did not share his problem. The Mayor's daughters were always surrounded by a cloud of Tooks from the Great Smials, dancing attendance with the annoying persistence of midges, though the lasses seemed to tolerate the attention. Not so their brother Frodo, evidently. Fastred could not help smiling at Frodo's protective stance, his cool looks at prospective suitors, his way of turning aside a lovesick probe with a jab of humour.  
  
The third evening, he noticed an addition to the Mayor's family, not a hobbit at all, but a tall Man in the black and silver uniform he recognised as that of the King's guardsmen. What was a guardsman doing here? At the moment, he was sitting on the floor to be at proper height for eating, enjoying dinner and trading jokes with the Thain...  
  
That evening, as he sat listening to the singing by the great room hearth, a servant bowed to him, saying his presence was requested in the Thain's study. He nodded and rose, noting that one of the bright-haired Mayor's daughters waved farewell to him with a saucy smile from the midst of the Tookish midges, then laughed at her brother's scolding.  
  
He smiled in spite of himself, inclined his head to her, and followed the servant from the room.  
  
The tall guardsman was in the Thain's study along with the Thain and the Mayor. The counsellor sat at his desk, pen at the ready, though Fastred had the idea that the pen was not really necessary; all pertinent information would be filed away behind those intent eyes. He nodded at Ferdibrand and received a nod in return.  
  
'Ah, Fastred, come in,' the Thain said, rising from his desk to gesture to a chair next to the guardsman, who was seated on the floor by the desk. 'I'd like you to meet the Mayor's eldest son, Bergil.'*  
  
'At your service,' the guardsman said correctly.  
  
'And at your family's,' Fastred answered, barely concealing his startlement. He met the eye of the chancellor again and saw the other's amusement.  
  
'So the Mayor has a guardsman in the family. Tooks come in all shapes and sizes,' Ferdibrand said. 'Some of our relatives even resemble the Fair Folk.'  
  
The Thain shot him a quelling glance, and he smiled and subsided.  
  
'I've been telling Bergil about your problem,' the Thain continued. 'He has had reports from the western outposts, but without a change in the standing orders the King left, they have felt that their hands were tied. The Rangers have rather more latitude, and have done a bit of ruffian hunting outside the borders of the Shire. I have sent a message to the Watchers that they might want to turn some attention to our Western side.'  
  
'That would be nice,' Fastred said dryly. 'Inviting more Men into the Westmarch? They ought to have a lovely party.'  
  
'_King's_ Men,' the Thain emphasised. 'The Rangers serve the King as well.'  
  
'As we must serve him, to earn his protection?' Fastred asked bleakly, all his father's talk of freedom haunting him. Perhaps hobbits were too small and weak to dream of freedom, and needed to be protected, like children, from the big, bad world around them.  
  
'Nothing in this world comes free,' the Mayor said softly. 'Everything comes at a price, whether you are the one who pays it or not. Even your first breath came at a great price to the one who bore you.'  
  
Fastred frowned. What did the Mayor know of "price"? When had he ever not been able to pay for whatever he wanted? What a life he led, travelling from town to town, opening festivals and celebrations. What did he know of hardship, after all, and sacrifice?  
  
He met the chancellor's watching eyes again, saw the faint rope scars on the other's neck, caught the slight nod. Somehow he had the feeling Ferdi was trying to tell him something. _He knows,_ the eyes said. _He knows very well, indeed._  
  
'In any event,' the Thain continued, 'I am sending a group of hobbits to Greenholm, to look into your situation at first hand. I need more information before I can try to help you.' He added almost as if to himself, 'I'd like to come, but cannot get away, of course.'  
  
'Of course,' Fastred said politely. Too attached to his comforts, likely. Not willing to put up with the inconveniences to be found in a town on the far border, in the least settled area of the Shire.  
  
A soft knock came on the door, and the inevitable head appeared, with the usual, 'Sorry to disturb, Sir, but...' At his hesitation, Fastred became aware of a peculiar tension in the air, and looking to the Thain he saw the colour drain from the other's face.  
  
'Yes, Sandy,' Thain Peregrin said quietly.  
  
'Something's come up, Sir,' Sandy said. 'You'd better come.'  
  
It was the fastest he'd seen the Thain move, yet, quickly up out of his chair and out the door without a word to anyone.  
  
Fastred was speechless with surprise, but looking around, he saw the faces of the others were grave. There was something here he did not understand, some knowledge he did not share. In the short silence that followed the Thain's departure, his thoughts were busy... and he suddenly realised, that while the Mistress of Tookland was often mentioned, he'd never seen her, not even at the ceremonies opening the festival.  
  
'What has happened to his wife?' he blurted out without thinking.  
  
'How did you know?' the steward said slowly, but the chancellor was nodding in satisfaction.  
  
'Nicely done,' Ferdi said. Looking to Regi, he signalled, _This is no fool we're dealing with._  
  
'Indeed,' Regi said. He paused to consider, and when he spoke again, was obviously weighing his words. 'The Thain's wife is... very ill,' he said. 'He cannot leave the Smials at this time.'  
  
'But you will not be riding back to Greenholm alone,' the Mayor reminded. 'I'll be coming with you.'  
  
'And I, as well,' Regi said. 'And I do believe that the chancellor had expressed some interest.'  
  
'I've never been past Michel Delving before,' Ferdi admitted. 'I must say I find the idea of seeing the Western Bounds most intriguing. And the thought of ruffians simply adds spice to the stew.' A gleam was in his eye as he spoke, albeit not a pleasant one.  
  
'Besides,' he added. 'I'm about due for a holiday.'  
  
***  
  
That evening by the fireside in the great room, the Tooks were more subdued than they had been. There was no singing, no boisterous laughter, only a murmur of voices in low conversation. Fastred had just about decided to go off to his room, have an early night before the morrow's journey, when Ferdi spoke up from the hearthside.  
  
The chancellor was speaking to one of the younger hobbits, and his eyes were wide with astonishment. 'You fell asleep before the end of the Story!' he exclaimed. 'However did that happen?'  
  
'Please!' several other little hobbits clamoured. 'Please tell it again, please, will you?'  
  
Ferdi shook his head. 'I do not know,' he said. 'It is an awfully long story.'  
  
'I can tell it!' a young voice piped up. 'Frodo got a ring from his cousin Bilbo, who got it from a dragon's hoard...'  
  
There was a chorus of 'No! That's not right!' from several others, and then a melodious voice spoke, one of the Mayor's golden-haired daughters.  
  
'You were close,' she said to the little one, who appeared crushed by the mistake. 'There was a dragon's hoard in Bilbo's story, but he got the Ring before he ever reached the dragon's hoard, remember?'  
  
Fastred had a vague memory of having heard the story before as a small lad, a hobbit, a dozen or so dwarves, a wizard, and a grand adventure. He'd often wished adventure would come to him...  
  
'And he found it was the Ruling Ring!' a lad shouted, only to be hushed by the rest.  
  
'That's right, Hilly,' Ferdibrand said quietly, 'the One Ring that would cover all Middle-earth with everlasting Darkness, should its Master ever find it.'  
  
Fastred leaned forward. He'd not heard this story before.  
  
'I want to hear the part about the fiery mountain,' Hilly said stubbornly, refusing to be hushed.  
  
'Do you know why they went to the fiery mountain in the first place?' Ferdibrand said sternly. Hilly shuffled his feet and dropped his eyes. The chancellor met Fastred's watching eyes, and nodded to himself.   
  
He proceeded to tell about the great Quest, a shortened version, necessarily, for there was another journey to be started on the morrow and they must needs seek their beds before the middle night. But he told enough, and well enough, that Fastred was drawn into the story.  
  
In his imagination, he crawled up the ash-covered slopes of the fiery mountain, his tongue cleaving in his mouth for the overpowering thirst that wracked him, driven by a terrible purpose, an urgent need, all the while hunted by winged terrors and creeping death.  
  
He fought a final battle with the ghoulish creature that had shadowed him for leagues, saw the Ring cast into the fire, staggered down the side of the mountain to collapse in despair...  
  
...and awakened in a fair land of cool grass, sunshine, and birdsong, honoured by a great host raising their swords and shouting to the heavens in glad acclamation, for the Darkness had been rolled away, and the Dark Lord defeated.  
  
There was a general sigh as the story ended, and a log popped as it cracked asunder, clearly heard through the silent hall.  
  
'But how did you get from the fiery mountain to the fair land, Mayor Sam?' one of the little ones asked sleepily.   
  
_Mayor Sam?_ Fastred thought in shock, only to meet the chancellor's knowing eyes, to see the other's slight nod.  
  
'On the wings of an eagle,' Sam replied with a smile. 'Or that's what they tell me. You see, I was asleep at the time.'  
  
There was a murmur of empathy for the disappointment he must have felt, amongst the little ones, who could only imagine how it must feel to be borne upon the wings of a great eagle...  
  
'That's the part I like best,' yawned a sleepy little one.  
  
'Well, then,' the steward said, getting up from his chair, 'Here's an eagle come to take you off to your rest, now.'  
  
'Awww, Da! Can I not stay up awhile longer?' the little one protested.  
  
'No, lass,' Regi said gently. 'For this weary eagle is about to seek his own bed.' He picked up his little daughter in his arms, and she snuggled against his shoulder, asleep before he had carried her half a dozen steps towards the door.  
  
***  
  
* Author's Note: This is a reference to the story "At the End of His Rope", wherein Sam and Rose "adopt" Bergil during their year in Gondor, after he has been daily in their company, having been assigned to guard them during their stay in the White City.


	4. With Peace and Joy I Journey Thither

**4. With Peace and Joy I Journey Thither**  
  
'They're ready to depart, Sir,' Sandy said softly. Thain Peregrin jerked awake in the chair by Diamond's bed, her hand still clasped firmly within his.  
  
Healer Woodruff cleared her throat. 'It's all right, lad,' she said. 'You go and see them off. There's naught much you could be doing here, anyhow. I'll keep watch and call you if anything...' He nodded, and after tenderly kissing the palm of the hand he held, laid it gently on the bed and arose from the chair.  
  
'We'll talk when you return,' the healer added.  
  
He looked at her sharply. 'You mean there's something to be done?' he asked. 'You told me there was nothing...'  
  
'We will talk when you return. They're waiting for you now, and my news will keep,' Woodruff said firmly, as if he were still the wayward lad she'd treated for a broken arm after he'd tried to jump his pony while sitting backwards in the saddle.  
  
He gave a jerk of his chin and, after a long glance at his wife, left the room.  
  
***  
  
Outside the Smials the pack-ponies were loaded and the riders were ready to mount, just waiting for the Thain to see them off. Fastred was not impatient, now, knowing what the hobbit was going through, though he burned to return to Greenholm, to find out if any of the crops had been salvaged.  
  
There were hugs and good wishes all around as the Tooks took leave of their families. It was quite the event for Reginard and Ferdibrand to be travelling all the way to the western Bounds. Most Tooks never went any further than Michel Delving, and that far only because the great Overlithe fair was held there every four years, with the Shire-wide pony races and four-day fair.  
  
Regi's wife Rosa patted her swollen belly and said, 'You'd better be quick about your business or the babe will arrive here before you do.'  
  
Ferdi laughed and said, 'And then you'll be in the biggest trouble with your wife you ever saw, believe you me!'   
  
His own wife laughed and blushed, but said, 'And for good reason!'  
  
'Don't I know it,' Ferdi said wryly, and everyone laughed.  
  
Sam turned to Rose. 'You'll stay here with Diamond?' he asked.  
  
She nodded. 'For all the good I can do,' she said soberly. 'But I'll stay here. They did the same for us when we were down.' She looked up at her tall "son". 'And you be good, and stay out of trouble,' she said.   
  
'Yes, Rosie-mum,' he said obediently.  
  
Casting about for some other motherly advice, she added, 'And eat your vegetables.'  
  
'Always,' Bergil said, giving her a hug.  
  
Rose looked to her three eldest, accompanying their father. 'I know you'll be a help and not a hindrance,' she said. They often rode with Samwise on his travels about the Shire, even when the rest of the family stayed at Bag End. They were able to collect much more news, and unguarded thoughts, from the tweens in the places they visited, than their elders were able to gather from the more cautious grown-ups, and so provided the Mayor and Thain an invaluable barometer of public opinion.  
  
'Yes'm,' Frodo answered, and his two sisters echoed him.  
  
Ferdi looked up then, from his own conversation with his wife and little ones. 'I don't believe you've been properly introduced,' he said to Fastred. 'A bit awkward when travelling in company.'  
  
Grabbing the other by the arm, he hauled Fastred over to the Mayor's family. 'Mistress Rose, Miss Elanor, Miss Rose, may I present Fastred of Greenholm.'  
  
'At your service,' Fastred said with a bow.   
  
Frodo returned the bow, saying, 'And your family's service.'  
  
Elanor made a graceful courtesy, but Rose giggled. Her mother shot her a sharp glance. 'Rose,' she said sternly. 'Perhaps you are not old enough...'  
  
Young Rose sobered abruptly. 'I'm sorry, Mum,' she said, and standing stiff and proper, extended a hand to Fastred, saying, 'Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.'  
  
Thain Peregrin appeared at the main entrance, calm as ever, and conferred for a few moments with the Mayor and Steward before turning to Fastred. 'We'll find a way,' he said. 'We've dealt with ruffians before.'  
  
'Yes, Sir,' Fastred said.  
  
The Thain turned to Ferdibrand. 'I want a full report,' he said.  
  
The chancellor smiled faintly. 'Don't I always deliver?' he answered.   
  
The Thain gave him a hard look. 'You left a few things out, the last time we dealt with ruffians,' he said sternly. Ferdi shrugged and rolled his eyes at Reginard, who was shaking his head. The Thain lifted a stern finger. 'A _full_ report, I said.'  
  
'Yes, Sir,' Ferdi answered, 'though several trees die to sustain the paperwork.'  
  
'Ferdi,' Reginard said, and the other subsided, but not before muttering, 'I thought I was on holiday.'   
  
At Fastred's startled glance, Ferdi gave him a wink, then sobered. 'Give Diamond our best, when she wakens.'  
  
The Thain nodded soberly. 'When she wakens,' he said softly. 'Grace go with you.' Abruptly he turned away and walked into the Smials.  
  
***  
  
They rode across the countryside, following faint tracks that wound around the hillsides, to Tookbank, where they picked up the road to Whitwell. There they took the road North, to meet the Great Eastern Road, at Waymeet, where they stayed the first night, and then turned their ponies' heads towards the Sea.  
  
Fastred overheard quiet conversation between the Mayor and the steward of Tookland as they rode past the empty fields, the harvest over now, crops gathered in, hobbits getting ready for the next celebration to come, Remembering Day on November the Second. He wondered how much of their harvest, if any, the hobbits of Greenholm had managed to gather.  
  
This year, on Remembering Day, he would act as head of the family, instead of his father. His father... this year it was his father they'd be honouring the memory of, rather than some old gaffer of the village who'd died in his bed after a fine meal and satisfying pipe, or an old gammer who'd fallen asleep in her rocking chair after taking the last pan of biscuits out of the oven for the expected visit of her grands, never to awaken again in this world. His father had been taken young, too young, still full of plans and dreams. Now it was up to his sons to carry them out. Fastred wondered if he was old enough, wise enough, strong enough.  
  
They passed farmers breaking ground for the planting of the winter wheat and winter barley. Fastred thought of the rich fields to the west of Greenholm, lying fallow now. No one would venture past the Bounds, not until the ruffians were taken care of. The Downs themselves were more suited to grazing sheep than raising crops.  
  
They stayed the next night in Michel Delving, where the Mayor was welcomed warmly (it was the seat of his office, after all), and hospitality was showered upon his party. After a hearty breakfast, they set out for the last leg of their journey, descending the cleft through the White Downs. Looking back, Fastred could see the Downs' dazzling face, a wall between Shire civilisation and the wilds of the Western reaches.  
  
Now the land became wilder, more desolate, the farmsteads fewer and further between. No towns rose between Michel Delving and Greenholm; the land was untamed, somehow, windswept moors rising on either side of the road.  
  
'No watercourses,' the Mayor commented. 'Makes growing crops rather difficult.'  
  
'Rather,' Fastred agreed. The next water was to be found at Greenholm, and the community owed its existence to the stream that emerged from under the Downs and ran away towards the River Lune.  
  
Riding next to Frodo, Fastred suddenly pointed. Following the indicated direction, the younger hobbit saw, finally, two small aerial figures, flying at great speed, twisting, dodging in erratic flight until the pursuer finally rose above the other and stooped, striking the larger bird it was pursuing with its talons, and settling to the ground.  
  
'Merlin,' he said succinctly in explanation.  
  
'Hawks? Here?' Frodo said, looking out on the wild moorland. 'Where would they nest?'  
  
'On the ground,' Fastred answered. 'Where else?' He gestured to the grassy hills. 'See any trees around here?'  
  
Frodo chuckled. 'I suppose you have a point.' He considered a moment. 'They're the smallest of the hawks, aren't they?'  
  
'Hobbit hawks,' Fastred said, and laughed.  
  
'Hobbit hawks?' Frodo asked, patting his pony's neck as the beast tossed its head. 'Those words don't go together, do they?'  
  
'I dunno,' Fastred answered, scratching his head. 'Hobbits hunt for the pot, after all, same's merlins do. And from some of the stories I heard in the Smials, they can be bold hunters indeed.'   
  
Frodo followed his gaze to the chancellor, riding ahead, and he shook his head with a chuckle. 'I suppose you have a point,' he said again.  
  
'My brother tamed a merlin once,' Fastred continued. 'I'd've said it couldn't be done, but he found one with a damaged wing upon the moor and nursed it. That lad has more patience in his little finger than I have in my whole being.'  
  
'I don't doubt that,' Frodo said with a sidelong glance, but Fastred only laughed. He was getting used to these Gamgees, finding that they were just regular hobbits, like those he knew in Greenholm, for all their father was Mayor of the Shire.  
  
They had been climbing gradually, up one long slope, down somewhat on the far side, only to climb the next rise, and near evening they came out on the edge of the Far Downs, which fell away steeply to the West. A great cleft had been cut, somehow, and the road descended to the plain below.  
  
They paused a moment at the top, before descending, and looked over the Westmarch, flooded with sunset light. A meandering silver line emerged from the cliffs, the stream on which Greenholm based its existence, wandering until it slipped into the embrace of a little woods that followed its course into the distance. The Tower Hills were just discernable, a dark smudge against the horizon, behind which the Sun was soon to hide her face.  
  
'There,' Fastred said. 'The Bounds are perhaps five miles from where we stand, and beyond are the fields we planted, the dreams we watered, the hopes the ruffians stole from us, at the cost of our sweat and our blood.' They stood in silence, looking over the plain, where well-ordered fields could still be remarked, with their neat stone walls, but no farmers ploughed, preparing the ground for winter barley and winter wheat there. The fields lay empty, abandoned.  
  
'A land full of promise,' the Mayor murmured. 'Fine for growing things.' Fastred recalled that he'd been a gardener before becoming Mayor. Now Sam sat upright in his saddle, said, 'Just need to pull the weeds out of the beds,' and squeezed his pony's sides, to start the long descent into the valley and the little settlement of Greenholm.   
  



	5. This is Certainly the Truth

Note to readers: I do not know why ffnet thought there were five chapters of this story up when there were really only four. I am supposing that after I upload this fifth chapter, ffnet will try to tell you there are really six. But there won't be... until the morrow. If the mismatch continues, just know that I plan to keep uploading a chapter a day... Can you keep it straight? I hope I can.**  
**  
Does anyone know of a good web-hosting where I could put stories without all this difficulty? Please advise.**  
  
5. This is Certainly the Truth**  
  
'What did you mean?' the Thain asked of the healer upon his return to Diamond's side, kissing his wife's hand as he took it up again, murmuring a loving plea into her ear before he sat again by her side. 'I thought you said there was nothing to be done but wait.'  
  
He sternly eyed Healer Woodruff, a grandmotherly hobbit, plump, comfortable, whose greying curls attested to her lifetime of experience in dealing with difficult situations.  
  
She seemed strangely reluctant to speak, but finally took a deep breath and began. 'You know this condition is caused by the fact that she's expecting.'  
  
'You said it happens more often with mums who are older than the usual, and when they are expecting more than one babe,' the Thain affirmed.  
  
'Aye,' Woodruff said, 'and Diamond fits both of those.'  
  
'You were watching for this,' Pippin said.  
  
'We always watch for it,' Woodruff amended. 'I've lost more mums to this than to any other problem, in all the time I've been a healer.'  
  
The Thain's expression was bleak; they'd gone over all this ground before. 'From the first headache, you were worried, and then when the swelling started...'  
  
'We know what to watch for,' she said quietly. 'I had hoped, when we popped her into bed at the first signs...' she sighed.  
  
'You said there's something else to be done,' Pippin said.  
  
'I said nothing of the sort,' Woodruff bristled.  
  
'You said we'd talk,' Pippin persisted. 'Right, then, talk! I'm listening.' Unconsciously his hand tightened on his wife's, but she made no sign.  
  
'The only cure I know of, is for her to deliver the babes.'  
  
'It is too soon, you said,' Pippin answered slowly.  
  
'Aye,' Woodruff nodded slowly. 'Another week, I think, before it would be safe for them to come into the world. Were they to come forth this day, I doubt they'd draw breath, not for long, at least.'  
  
'You're saying, that if the babes were to be born this day, they would die, but Diamond might live?'  
  
She nodded slowly. 'And if we keep waiting, you'll most likely lose all three of them, mother, and babes. There are ways...' she said.  
  
Dawning understanding was replaced by horror. The Thain began to shake his head, slowly. 'Nay, Woodruff,' he whispered. 'Do not place such a choice before me. You know what the answer must be.' He looked back to his wife and blinked as tears spilled over, to run unheeded down his cheeks. 'You cannot take life, to give life,' he said brokenly.  
  
'I know,' the healer said softly. 'I just wanted you to know the choice was there.'  
  
'No choice at all,' Pippin whispered. 'Are we Hobbits? or are we Men?'  
  
'Hobbits,' Woodruff said firmly, and giving him a squeeze upon his shoulder, she left him alone with his wife.  
  
***  
  
Greenholm was a small community, not all that different from Hobbiton, really, though the accents fell slightly strange on the ear, slower, broader, perhaps. Many of the hobbits had delved their dwellings into the steep face of the cliff where the Far Downs looked onto the Westmarch, and very comfortable they were, too, for all their relative newness, compared to the long-settled interior of the Shire.  
  
The travellers were warmly welcomed, even Bergil, though he noticed many a sidelong glance thrown his way. As was customary amongst hobbits, no business was discussed upon their arrival. Instead, they were shown to their quarters, to freshen up and put away their gear, and then fed well, offered pipeweed and small talk, and finally, good-nighted on their way to their rest. The morrow would be time enough to discuss the reason for their coming.  
  
On the morrow they were fed a good breakfast, and then the discussion began. A large hall had been carved out of the hillside for community gatherings, and many gathered here now. The travellers heard a recitation of events, no surprises, all in line with the news Fastred had brought to the Smials.  
  
'And so we are at a standstill, now,' one farmer ended.  
  
'But you did harvest some of your crops,' Mayor Sam said.  
  
'Yes,' the same farmer said, putting a finger to the side of his nose and glancing askance at Bergil.  
  
'Go ahead,' the Mayor encouraged. 'My son is here as an observer at the moment.'  
  
The farmer nodded, blinked, still not used to the idea of a guardsman being part of a hobbit family, but taking a deep breath, he continued in a low voice. 'Some of the guardsmen...' he said, glancing again at Bergil, '...in their own time, when they were off duty, mind...'  
  
'Yes?' the Mayor said encouragingly.  
  
'They went out with the waggons, sort of... stood guard on the harvesters, not really stood guard, mind, but...'  
  
'Yes?' the Mayor repeated when the other faltered.  
  
'They rode back with the loaded waggons, just to keep us company, mind, nothing official at all...'  
  
'I see,' Sam said. 'Very neighborly of them.'  
  
'That's it,' the farmer said, relieved. 'Neighborly. Just a neighborly visit, you know, a chance to chat.'  
  
'Very neighborly,' Bergil said dryly. 'I'm glad to hear the King's Men are getting along so well with their... neighbors.'  
  
Rose made a sound suspiciously like a giggle, and Frodo was having trouble containing his own laughter. 'Next thing you know, they'll be adopting guardsmen into their own families,' he whispered to Elanor, who gave him a quelling glance.  
  
'The Thain has asked the Rangers to pay some heed to the land West of the Shire,' Reginard said smoothly. 'They do not have the same... constraints, as the guardsmen, whose orders are fairly specific.'  
  
'Rangers?' one of the hobbits of Greenholm said sharply. 'More Men in the Westmarch?'  
  
'King's Men,' Fastred answered. 'And I'm told these have been quite efficient in guarding the stretch between Buckland and Bree against Ruffians and other nuisances, Reddy.'  
  
'Ah,' Reddy said, though he did not seem completely reassured.  
  
'Officially, the Westmarch belongs to the King,' Bergil said at last. The hobbits bristled at this. What need had the King for all that land? It lay there, unused, after all, until the hobbits began to work it, to coax it to bring forth its riches. 'However,' he added, 'it would not be unheard of for the King to make a grant of land to Hobbits. It's been done before, as I recall.'  
  
The Shire had not always been, after all, but had been given to the People long ago, by another King. The inhabitants of Greenholm absorbed this information.  
  
'You're saying, he'd give the Westmarch to the Thain?' one of them said.  
  
'He'd give it to the Shire,' the Mayor corrected.  
  
'The Thain rules the Shire,' someone said sharply.  
  
'The Thain watches over the Shire,' Reginard said. 'The only thing he owns is his family's farmstead, back in Tookland. He doesn't own the Shire, at all.'  
  
'How would we do this?' someone asked slowly, 'should we decide that this is what we wish to be done?'  
  
'You can send a message to the King in Gondor,' Bergil said, 'or speak to him, face to face, when he returns in May.'  
  
'May is too late for spring planting,' someone grumbled.  
  
'Then we'll send him a message,' another answered.  
  
'Have we decided to do such a thing?'  
  
The Mayor held up his hands. 'This is a matter for you all to discuss,' he said. 'I think we'll take ourselves off for a walk. You can let us know of the result, and we will take your decision back to the Thain.'  
  
Fastred stood, representing his family, and though he was young, his father had commanded such respect in the community that none could gainsay his right to have his say. 'Thank you,' he said. 'We will let you know as soon as we come to a decision.'  
  
***  
  
Hidden in the woods, camped by the stream that issued from the Downs near Greenholm, a small band of ruffians were debating their course.  
  
'If we hadn't tipped our hand by raiding their crops, they wouldn't even be on their guard now,' one of them said.  
  
'Yes, but how were we to know of this bounty? The news just came. The timing's rotten, I know, but it is not too late to make our fortune. And I'm not just talking stinking cabbages and potatoes...' One-eye, the leader of this band of ruffians, looked down at the paper he held, squinting in the firelight with his remaining eye, the other covered by a patch of cloth to keep out the dust more than to spare his fellows' feelings.  
  
'The ruler of Harad wants unusual pets for his collection,' he reiterated, 'and he's heard of these... "little people". He'd pay a great bounty in gold for any we might be able to supply.'  
  
'It would have to be the women, or the children,' one of his band said. 'The men fight much too hard.'  
  
'They're not Men,' he said absently, 'but you're right, they'd be too much trouble to capture, and to transport safely.'  
  
'The children are too well guarded,' another grumbled. 'And none of them is venturing outside their Bounds at the moment.'  
  
'So we have to go within the Bounds,' One-eye said. 'How much trouble is that? We just pick a spot when the guardsmen have already ridden along the Bounds and turned back towards their outpost, once they pass we strike behind their backs, and they don't even know aught is amiss until their next pass, by which time we'll be well away.'  
  
'Seems as if we ought to be able to pick up a lass or two that way,' someone said.  
  
'And one or two is all we need to make our fortune,' One-eye said.  
  
'When do we strike?'  
  
'Well, now,' One-eye answered. 'I've already laid the groundwork. Red is out watching the patrols as we speak; he'll signal when they start back towards their outpost, and we'll just take us a nice little hike along the stream, hide in the edge of the wood until dusk, and then strike.'  
  
'The early owl catches the mouse?' one of the ruffians laughed.  
  
'Ah, yes, but in this case, we'll do much better than a mouse, I'd think,' One-eye answered in satisfaction. From the amount of gold the Haradrim were offering, he'd be able to retire for life...


	6. Hold Thou Firm against All Evil

Notes to readers:  
  
Everyone, FF.net thinks, for some reason, that there are seven chapter at present, at least, I believe that is what FF.net is saying. But it ain't so. I have written through chapter 12, and continuing, but am still aiming to post one a day, or as allowed by FF.net.  
  
Savannah, yes, I have this thought that it is partly Hobbits' reverence for life that makes them whatever it is they are, good, noble, pure, innocent... all those things you read about in fanfic. Anyhow, it makes sense to me. If your ethics are firmly in place, you have an easier time making the hard decisions. I guess I'm basing this on Professor Tolkien's mention in the "Scouring of the Shire" that no hobbit had ever deliberately taken another hobbit's life. Ever? In their whole history? Wow. Makes me rather surprised that Woodruff would even bring it up...  
  
Pansy, yes, I'm worried about Diamond as well.  
  
Eledhwen, glad to make your acquaintance. Your name sounds Welsh, or is it Elvish? Not very hobbity? I assure you, he used to be very hobbity, in the days before ruffians, when he was just the son of a much-respected farmer in the little community of Greenholm. But adversity has a way of bringing out hidden qualities, kind of like in other hobbits we know and love. And remember Marco and Blanco! They must not have been very "hobbity" to cross, what was it, the Misty Mountains? --to inhabit the Shire in the first place. But please, I am not taking your remarks amiss, just debating the point, as I would be very distressed if one of my characters were to be found out of character.  
  
Bookworm, the wondering who will get taken, ends in this chapter. Yes, when you've read this chapter, you will know.  
  
FantasyFan, FF.net ate your reviews? I am heartbroken. But thanks for trying again. Good comments. Did you happen to notice that Fastred was saying some of the same things that were said to him at the Great Smials? I think his attitude is undergoing transformation.  
  
Xena, I was shocked at Woodruff's near-suggestion, too. I wonder if Woodruff has been influenced by the ruthlessness of the ruffians, to even bring up such a choice. No wonder the King issued that edict, to keep the Shire from being contaminated...  
  
LadyJea, so encouraged by your comments. I haven't seen *any* other Fastred and Elanor fiction out there, but then, I'm not one to read romances. I like a bit of "meat" when I'm devouring a story. So you're wondering what Elanor is going to be like? Well, here's a clue... she's a firstborn, in a fair-sized family. Does that help? And as to what is going on with Diamond, they wouldn't use the same name that we would use, of course, but she is suffering from pre-eclampsia, a complication of pregnancy that I suffered from with all of mine. Happily, after the first one, I got a midwife who knew better than the doctors the important role of diet, and she kept stuffing protein into me until I was okay. Of course, it meant getting up in the middle of the night to drink a protein shake because my body could not fast for 8 hours without getting into trouble. I don't absorb protein well, it seems... You can look up pre-eclampsia on the internet, it is very interesting reading... but none of the sites I visited mentioned eating a high-protein diet as part of the treatment...  
  
Dana, glad you're keeping your fingers crossed. I'm sure it will help, lots.  
  
BTW, has anyone figured out where the chapter titles come from? Just curious.  
  
And now, to the current chapter...   
  
***  
  
**6. Hold Thou Firm against All Evil**  
  
The westering Sun was just kissing the Tower Hills, and Elanor sighed. She wondered what they looked like, those hills, what she would see standing atop one of them. Would she be able to see the Sea?  
  
Sometimes she dreamed the Sea, smelled the salt air, heard the booming waves, felt them curl about her feet, pulling at the sand she stood upon, and the dream would linger into her wakening until her mother would have to speak sharply to recall her to the mundane tasks of the day.  
  
Surely this evening, the folk of Greenholm would render their decision, and on the morrow she'd be off again to familiar haunts, turning her back on the wide world, as yet unexplored, unexperienced.  
  
'Are you tired, Sister?' Frodo asked solicitously. 'We can go back now, if you like.'  
  
'No,' she said wryly. 'I'm sure someone will be coming to get us at any moment. Regi, undoubtedly, or Ferdi, or even Father.'  
  
'Not, perhaps, some handsome young scion of Greenholm?' Frodo teased.  
  
'Frodo!' she said, annoyed, and he laughed, glad to have managed to get a rise out of her.  
  
'I rather fancied his brother, myself,' Rose said smugly, and it was Frodo's turn to frown.  
  
'You oughtn't flirt so outrageously,' he said sternly. 'It isn't proper.'  
  
Rose giggled, but Elanor agreed. 'You aren't just hurting yourself,' she said, 'but all of us, especially Father. Our behaviour reflects on him, you know, and he's counting on us...'  
  
Her younger sister pouted. 'I was only having a bit of fun.'  
  
'You can have your fun back in Hobbiton,' Frodo said, then hurriedly corrected himself, 'or not, I mean, not your kind of fun. It's going to get you into trouble, Rose.'  
  
'Trouble! Faugh!' Rose said pertly. 'I know exactly what I'm doing.'  
  
'I'm afraid so,' Elanor said soberly. 'And Mum and Dad wouldn't like it, you know they wouldn't.'  
  
'You're just envious, that I get all the attention,' Rose said with an irritating smile, 'but you know you'd turn a few heads if you'd just try.'  
  
'I don't want to turn heads,' Elanor said.  
  
'That's obvious,' Rose answered haughtily.  
  
From the cover of the long grass nearby, One-eye grasped the arm of the Man next to him, gave a squeeze, and the signal went down the row. These bright-haired lasses, now... curls shining in the sunset light like spun gold, and only the one lad with them. Easy pickings. He licked his lips and smiled. He could almost feel the weight of gold in his hands...  
  
'I'm going to tell Dad to leave you behind in Hobbiton,' Frodo said. 'You're obviously picked too green, you've got to ripen a bit more.'  
  
'Don't you dare!' Rose said, 'or I'll tell him about the time--' she did not finish her threat, for several great forms erupted from the long grass, throwing sacks over herself and Elanor and bearing them up, throwing them over powerful shoulders with enough force to knock the air, and the screams from their lungs.   
  
Frodo tried to resist, only to be knocked to the ground with the swing of a club, dazed, before he could sound the alarm, and then... he was alone. His sisters were gone, melted into the long grass, in the dusk, and Reginard was helping him to sit up.  
  
'What happened,' the steward snapped.  
  
'Ruffians,' Frodo gasped. 'They took Ellie, and Rose...' Dread seized his heart.  
  
'Did you see which way they went?' Regi demanded.  
  
'Towards the woods,' Frodo answered.  
  
'Can you stand?' At his nod, Regi hauled him to his feet. 'Run for help,' the steward added. 'I'll be following them, leaving a trail for you.' He held up a sheaf of papers. 'The farmers' letter to the Thain,' he said. 'We'll put it to good use.' He would tear bits off and strew them behind him as he followed the ruffians into the gathering gloom, to make a trail easier to follow than footprints in the dark.  
  
Frodo nodded and ran shouting the alarm.  
  
The ruffians heard the shouts, and cursed.   
  
'Discovered already!' one of them grumbled.  
  
'Ah, well, sounds like one of the little rats,' One-eye said philosophically. 'At least it isn't the guardsmen. 'Twould be difficult to outrun their horses, but we can surely outdistance a little rat, and once we're in the woods...'  
  
'What if they fetch the guardsmen?' another panted. Little the lass might be, but she was still a burden, especially for one on the run.  
  
'That'll take time,' One-eye said confidently. 'They were on their way back to the outpost, after all, when Red saw them, and it'll take time for the little folk to muster. We'll be well into the woods by then, and you know they've never followed us through the darkness.'  
  
'We've never taken one of their lasses, before, neither,' another grumbled.  
  
'Bunch of cowards, the lot of them,' One-eye said. 'They've never been able to stand up to us, and if any do happen to follow, well, we're bigger than they are...'  
  
Regi ran smoothly behind the ruffians. Though their legs were longer, he was unburdened, and they were hampered by their desire to leave as little sign as possible, where he did not have that worry. As a matter of fact, he kept tearing bits off the pages he held and dropping them as he ran. Good thing the Thain insisted that all those who worked for him must be able to run far and shoot well. It stood Regi in good stead in this instance.  
  
The ruffians reached the edge of the wood and passed in. Regi slowed, caution warning him that they might post a sentry to warn of pursuit. He moved as quietly as only a hobbit can. There was a sentry, indeed, but he did not see the steward slip by.  
  
Reaching a clearing well within the cover of the trees, the ruffians stopped to catch their breath.  
  
'Start a fire,' One-eye ordered. 'I doubt they'll pursue us until the morning light. They're farmers, not trackers. There's no way they'll find our trail in the dark.' He looked to the two who carried sacks. 'Let us see what we have caught.'  
  
The sacks were removed, and he caught his breath. Little folk they might be, but these lasses were lookers for all that, long tresses of golden curls, tumbling down over their shoulders in the firelight, large eyes, wide with fright, rosebud lips. He felt a stirring within himself, fought it down, made himself think of the gold. 'A very nice prize, indeed,' was all he allowed himself to say. 'We are going to be rich!'  
  
One of the ruffians ran a dirty finger down a creamy cheek. 'We don't need to sell both of 'em, surely,' he growled. 'Can't we keep one for ourselves?' The lass gasped, dread in her eyes, and One-eye smiled grimly. It would be difficult to convince his men, but he would try.  
  
'They're worth more than their weight in gold, if we deliver them unspoilt,' he said firmly. 'Unspoilt, mind.' He looked around the circle of faces. 'Think of it. You could have one night of pleasure this night, sure, but the gold we'll get will buy you a lifetime instead.'  
  
They were wavering, but he sensed things could go either way at this juncture. He clinched his authority by issuing an order. 'Bind 'em,' he said. 'But be gentle. We don't want to leave any marks.'  
  
Soon the lasses were safely bound, and the ruffians turned to cooking up a quick bite over the fire. Regi watched from the cover of the trees. It showed their confidence, he thought, that they even had a fire. Obviously they expected no pursuit, and no trouble this night.  
  
The steward waited until the ruffians had gathered around the fire, roasting meat they'd cached earlier, jostling for the choicest bits, boasting jovially about what they'd do with the gold once they had it. They were so confident in their success, and the impotence of little folk, that they did not even set a guard upon their captives once they'd trussed them, simply leaving them to lie like logs just outside the firelight.  
  
Regi crept around to Rose, holding a finger to his lips as he emerged from the shadows. She quickly suppressed a gasp, and he nodded approvingly, then took out his knife and carefully cut her bonds. Drawing her into the shadows, he breathed into her ear, 'There's a climbable tree just behind us... wrap yourself in my cloak, cover your hair, climb up as high as you can and stay absolutely still.'  
  
Wide-eyed, she nodded, taking his cloak and moving towards the tree he indicated. He would free Elanor next, send her up the tree, have her share the cloak and cover that golden hair so that it would not draw the eyes of searching ruffians. Then he'd lead the Men well away, through the woods, give them the slip, and come back for the lasses. It was the only plan he could think of, and it was a good one, if all went well.  
  
But all did not go well. As he was cutting Elanor's bonds, he saw her eyes widen, just before blackness claimed him. He had not heard the soft step behind him as One-eye came to check on the captives after he'd eaten his fill.  
  
He held up the limp body, shouting for the others. 'Look!' he said. 'Looks as if the rats go out in the dark after all!'  
  
'How many are there?' someone demanded.   
  
'Don't know,' One-eye said. 'Let's find out. Red, you go back and check with Three-fingers, see how many entered the woods.' He looked around. 'Hey!' he said suddenly. 'Where's the other lass?'  
  
The ruffians looked about the clearing stupidly. Clearly the bird had flown. 'Look about,' One-eye ordered. 'See if you can find any sign of her.'  
  
'I've an idea,' an evil-looking ruffian said. 'Let's waken this one and ask him what he did with her.'  
  
'And just what makes you think he'll talk, Chase?' another said.  
  
The evil-looking Man laughed nastily. 'There's ways,' he said darkly. 'Bind him to a tree, while I see what's what.'   
  
One of the searchers came forward with Regi's bow and quiver. 'Lookee what I've found,' he said. 'A pretty toy.'  
  
One-eye took the weapon from the other. 'I used to have one just like this when I was a lad,' he said, running appreciative fingers along the length of polished wood. 'Sweet, very sweet indeed.'  
  
'Let me see that,' Chase said. He examined the bow, and the quiver of arrows, then said, 'Throw a bucket of water over him, I think we're about to have a nice little chat.'  
  
Elanor watched, terrified, as a bucket of cold water was thrown into the steward's face, and he choked and spluttered, raising his head to stare defiantly at the ruffians. One rope bound his arms behind him around the bole of a large beech; windings of rope held him tightly to the trunk at a Man's eye level.  
  
Chase stalked up to him. 'Rope a little too tight for your liking?' he asked pleasantly. 'We could loosen it, but I fear you might fall.'  
  
The steward made no answer, meeting the ruffian's gaze without expression.  
  
'Where's the girl?' Chase demanded suddenly. At the other's lack of response, he delivered a ringing slap, calculated to hurt without damaging the prisoner, or sending him back into unconsciousness, out of the reach of the inquisitor.  
  
'What have you done with her?' he asked, with another slap. The hobbit gave no answer.  
  
Red came jogging back with Three-fingers, to report no sign of pursuit. 'He must have been happening by, seen us take the girls, and followed.'  
  
'Good,' One-eye smiled. 'With any luck they won't be missed until the morning, and by then we'll be well away.' He turned back to the interrogation. 'See if we can find the other one. You may take an hour or two, but after that, we're moving on.'  
  
Chase nodded. 'If she's anywhere near, we'll have her.' He smiled at the steward. 'Tell us where she is, and things won't go so ill with you,' he said. 'You think you have troubles now? Just wait...' He stepped back and snatched up the bow and quiver from where they'd been dropped after the others had examined them.  
  
'Nice little toy,' he said. 'Always wanted one of these...' He strung the bow, clumsily, and pulled an arrow from the quiver. Nocking it to the string, he raised the weapon, aiming it at the steward. Elanor gasped, and One-eye strode forward, protesting.  
  
'He won't be able to tell us much if you kill him,' he said.  
  
'Just watch,' Chase answered. He drew back the string and let fly. The arrow buried itself in the tree beside Regi's left ear.  
  
'Nice shot,' One-eye said, 'but you might have killed him. You thinking to scare him into talking?'  
  
'Naw,' Chase said in frustration. 'I was aiming for the gut. Good place for a wound, very painful, and soon they beg to tell you all they know, more than you ever wanted to hear, if you will just put them out of their misery.'  
  
One-eye began to smile. 'So,' he said, 'that's your game...' He held out his hand, and Chase gave him the weapon. 'Seems to me you need a little lesson in shooting, then, or you might end the game too soon by mishap.' He looked into the steward's eyes. 'And we would not want that to happen...'


	7. Who Knows How Near is My End?

Note to readers: Just to let you know, ff.net is probably showing in a few places that it thinks it has 8 chapters of "Merlin" to offer. However, it is sadly deluded. There are, as of this upload, only 7.  
  
Comments, as always, are very welcome.  
  
*****  
  
7. Who Knows How Near is My End?**  
  
The ruffians were gone when the search party reached the clearing in the dawning light. Ferdi stopped short in horror at his first sight of the figure bound to the tree with ropes and pinned securely with arrows. 'Regi,' he breathed, stumbling forward, to trip over something on the ground. As he started to rise, he put his hand upon the broken bow, carelessly snapped when the ruffians had finished their play, and he cradled it to his breast and wept.  
  
The guardsmen and hobbits cautiously entered the clearing behind him. The trail of paper had stopped short of the woods, and it had taken some work to find their way to the clearing in the darkness, finally to arrive with the dawn.  
  
A guardsman stuck a cautious finger into the ashes of the fire. 'Still warm,' he said to Bergil, who was staring at the steward's body.  
  
'Cut him down,' he gritted. 'Don't just leave him there.' Bowing over Ferdi, he said, 'Are you all right?'  
  
'It wasn't a quick kill,' Ferdi whispered. 'Don't you see the pattern of shots? They used him... for target practice.'  
  
The Shirriff spun away, to lose the contents of his stomach in the nearby bushes, while a guardsman swore under his breath. Mayor Samwise stood, numb with misery and grief, taking in the rest of the clearing. No Rose, no Elanor... and Reginard, dead. Frodo was weeping as Fastred and his brother Leotred walked cautiously about the perimeter, looking for signs of the ruffians' departure, trying to pick up the continuation of the trail, while others from Greenholm stood silently, uncertain.  
  
A guardsman drew his sword, cutting first the ropes that bound the still figure to the tree, but as he touched the first arrow, to yank it loose, a ghost of a moan caused him to jerk his hand away as if burned. 'He's alive!' he said sharply.  
  
'What?' Bergil snapped, springing forward, and Ferdi raised his drooping head.  
  
'I don't know how,' the guardsman said, in wonder and horror, 'but he is.' Looking to two other guardsmen, he said, 'Hold him, don't let him move,' then, taking his razor-edged sword, he slashed sharply downwards, severing the arrows between hobbit and tree trunk. Once he was free, the other two lowered the steward gently to the ground.  
  
Ferdi stumbled to Regi's side. 'Regi?' he said softly. 'Regi, do you hear me?'  
  
The steward's eyelids fluttered, and his lips moved. Ferdi bent his ear close, then sat back with an expression of utter despair as a guardsman moved in to begin to deal with the wounds.  
  
'What did he say?' Sam said, moving to his side.  
  
'He said his wife is going to kill him,' Ferdi answered. He looked up at the Mayor. 'He must be dying,' he said brokenly. 'I've not ever heard him make a joke before.'  
  
Sam started to answer, but was arrested by the look on Ferdi's face. 'What is it?' he asked.  
  
Ferdibrand was still looking up, and now he pointed. 'Something golden,' he said. 'In that tree.'  
  
The others followed the pointing finger, to see a glimmer of gold high in the branches. Fastred jumped to the base of the tree and started climbing, followed by his brother, and Frodo, who was calling, 'Rose? Ellie?'  
  
They reached the high branches to find Rose, huddled in the steward's cloak, face pale, eyes wide with shock. She didn't seem to see them, or hear their urgent reassurances, and when Frodo reached for her she shuddered and shrank back, nearly losing her grip on the branch she held.  
  
'Steady,' Leotred said. 'Don't touch her.'  
  
'We've got to get her down,' Frodo said desperately.  
  
'Yes,' Leotred said, 'but let's get her down alive, shall we? I wouldn't want to see her fall from this height.'  
  
'Rosie?' Frodo said again, pleading, but Rose did not move or blink or show any sign of hearing.  
  
'Go down,' Leotred said. 'Please,' he added. To his brother, he said, 'Take him down.'  
  
'Come on, Frodo,' Fastred urged. 'Leotred has a way with wild creatures that have been hurt.'  
  
Frodo wanted to protest, but Fastred put a hand on his arm and nodded encouragingly. 'Let him try,' Fastred said. 'If he fails, you can always climb up again, you, or your father.'  
  
Frodo nodded, began to climb slowly down, followed by Fastred. They reached the ground to find all but three of the guardsmen gone. 'They found the trail,' the Shirriff said. 'Pity the ruffians when the guardsmen catch up with them.' He shook his head, his expression cold and grim. 'At least as much pity as they deserve, anyhow.'  
  
'Who?' Sam asked his son.  
  
'Rosie,' Frodo answered. 'She won't come down.'  
  
'Probably saw it all,' the Shirriff said sadly. He shook his head. 'Monsters,' he added.  
  
Sam looked as if he'd mount the tree himself, but Fastred caught at his arm. 'Give Leot a chance,' he said. 'If we startle her, she might fall. He's good at gentling frightened creatures.'  
  
Sam nodded, looking up. For all he could tell, Fastred's brother was just sitting, keeping Rose company on her high perch. If any words were being said, he couldn't hear them. As he watched, Rose moved closer to the trunk of the tree, hugging it desperately, then Leotred climbed to a nearer branch, just below Rose.  
  
The Mayor gasped as he saw his daughter let go, but the other was ready and caught her, drawing her close, holding to her and to the branch where he perched. Fastred was already climbing quickly before Sam or Frodo could react; he reached his brother, and between the two of them, they were able to climb safely down, lowering Rose between them.  
  
When she reached the ground, she crumpled and would have fallen, but they eased her gently down. 'Rosie,' Sam whispered. 'Rosie-lass, you're safe now.' She did not seem to hear, her eyes still fixed in their horrified stare.  
  
The guardsmen had drawn the arrows from the steward and bound compresses against the wounds, turning him onto his right side to give the uninjured lung on the left room to work. While two of them applied pressure to the wounds on the steward's torso, the third dressed the wounds in his extremities, muttering under his breath all the while.  
  
Fastred left Rose in the hands of her father and brother and went over to Ferdi. 'Will he live?' he asked.  
  
Ferdi shook his head. 'I don't know why he's not already dead,' he said. 'Curse them.' He began to weep again. 'Why didn't they just hang him and be done with it?'  
  
'They were looking for Rose,' Fastred said, with sudden comprehension. 'He must have loosed her and been caught when he went back for Elanor.'  
  
'They obviously didn't find her,' Ferdi said, wiping his sleeve across his nose.  
  
'Must've asked the wrong questions,' Fastred muttered, eyes on the ministering guardsmen.   
  
Ferdi snorted softly. 'Regi wouldn't tell his own mother what's for tea, if he thought she didn't need to know,' he said. His eyes never left the steward.  
  
***  
  
The ruffians had finally given up in frustration, though they'd made the most of their game, shouting with laughter and laying wagers on each shot. At last, the final arrow had been spent, and One-eye rallied his followers.  
  
'Time to go,' he said. 'It'll be dawn, soon. Let's get to the stream, they'll lose our trail there and we'll be on our way to fortune.' He regretted the loss of the other girl, but he still had one golden-haired treasure, and he'd make the most of her.  
  
Bending close, he looked into Elanor's eyes. 'You didn't see which way she went, did you?' he asked softly. She shook her head, her expression that of a wild thing in a trap, and he laughed.  
  
'Don't you worry, my fine beauty, I wouldn't hurt a hair on your head.' My, but she was a looker. He planted a thorough kiss, regretting all the while the need to keep her intact, then raised her to his shoulder, saying, 'Come on! Fortune awaits!'  
  
They walked to the stream and splashed into the shallows, walking along on the stony bed where they'd leave no tracks. After an hour of walking, they reached the boats, and One-eye laid his burden down gently, with a stroke to the cheek and another lingering kiss, for kisses were some satisfaction, at least, and left no mark in passing. 'Ah, lass,' he said. 'Good thing for you that you're worth your weight in gold. You're a sore temptation to an old ruffian like myself.'  
  
'You can always hope the Haradrim change their mind,' Red laughed.  
  
'Right,' said Chase. 'If they happen to poison off this ruler like they did the last one, you can keep her for yourself.'  
  
'But you gotta share,' Red admonished. 'We did a good bit of the work, you know.' The ruffians laughed, coarse, barking laughter that tore at Elanor's nerve.  
  
She closed her eyes and swallowed hard, wishing for some of her mother's strong lye soap to wash the memory of the ruffian's mouth away. At least they hadn't found Rose. Tears burned her eyelids, but she wouldn't let herself cry. Instead, grimly, she concentrated on her bindings. _Not too tight,_ One-eye had said, _Don't want to leave a mark._ Maybe it would work against them. If she couldn't throw herself out of the boat, perhaps... later... she could throw herself into the Sea... the Sea, which had teased at her feet in her dreams. Now it seemed her only salvation.  
  
A shout interrupted her concentration on her wrists, and suddenly she heard cries of alarm and a thunderous splashing. She raised her head enough to see great dark horses galloping along in the shallows of the stream, black figures on their backs with gleaming swords at the ready, and for a moment she thought of Frodo at the Ford of the Bruinen, pursued by the terrible Black Riders.  
  
No flood came down upon the riders, this time, rather, the swords flashed, clubs and knives being no match for them, and the waters of the stream turned red with the blood of ruffians.  
  
Elanor whimpered as large, powerful hands lifted her from the bottom of the boat where One-eye had shoved her as the riders attacked, only to hear a familiar voice, soothing, as her bonds were cut to free her hands and feet.  
  
'It's all right, Ellie, you're safe now,' Bergil crooned, holding her close to his heart. She gave a great gasping breath, and then, relaxing against him, began to sob, finally letting fall the tears she'd held in check through the long night and half the following day.


	8. Watch, Pray, Be Prepared

Note to readers: Just to let you know, ff.net is probably showing in a few places that it thinks it has 9 chapters of "Merlin" to offer. However, it is sadly deluded. There are, as of this upload, only 8.  
  
Pansy, you said: "You scared me! Don't do that again." Did you really mean it?  
  
Bookworm, yes, they are safe, from the ruffians, at least... thanks for your comments, I got the idea of Elanor dreaming of the Sea from something Dana wrote, but the parallel between the black-clad guardsmen splashing through the stream, and the Black Riders at the Ford chasing Frodo, came to me as I was writing Elanor's rescue... the two fit, somehow.  
  
LadyJea, so far as I know, the Book does not give a death date for Reginard... so it is all speculation. O, to have such power, of life and death over characters, 'tis nearly more than I can bear... (O, and thank you for the encouraging words.)  
  
Comments, as always, are very welcome.  
  
*****  
  
****8. Watch, Pray, Be Prepared**  
  
The Mayor and the Thain's chancellor talked quietly as they carried Regi along, holding the two front poles of the litter, the Shirriff and Fastred holding the rear poles.  
  
Bergil had sent a guardsman off at a gallop to the nearby outpost, from there to send swift messengers in both directions around the borders of the Shire, to warn of the bounty on the Pheriannath, and that ruffians were emboldened by their greed to enter the Shire proper in search of their prey.  
  
At the outpost where the road to the South entered the Shire, the message would split, continuing eastwards along the Bounds, and southwards to Gondor, to the King.  
  
'We'll have to send a message to Pippin,' Ferdibrand was saying softly, 'to let him know Regi's been mortally wounded.' He sighed. 'I do not know if he can get away, but he might be able to, and come in time to take his leave.'  
  
'He will need to know of the danger to the People, as well; the news must be spread throughout the Shire as quickly as possible, but most importantly on the borders. Buckland is especially vulnerable.'  
  
Ferdi nodded. His eyes were red with weeping. 'Someone ought to go who was there,' he said, 'but I do not want to leave Regi to walk alone in the dark, and you must not leave your Nell and Rose.'  
  
Sam smiled briefly at the chancellor's special name for his eldest and looked over at Bergil, who carried Elanor in his arms. 'You're right,' he said, 'but somehow I must send this terrible news on to their mother.' He wanted to be in two places; here, with his daughters, and at the Smials, with Rose, when she received the awful news.  
  
'I'll go,' Fastred said softly.  
  
The Mayor looked at him gratefully. 'You can use the ponies kept for the quick post riders,' he said. 'You'll go faster if you change ponies at every inn along the way.'  
  
'Will the innkeepers give them to me?' Fastred asked.  
  
'Here,' Ferdi said, letting go the litter with one hand to dig in his pocket. He brought out the heavy ring, seal and signet of the Thain. Regi had worn it, as the Thain's representative this trip, and the guardsmen had found it on One-eye's body when they'd searched the ruffians before burying them. 'Put this on.' He extended his hand back to Fastred, across Regi's body.  
  
Fastred took the ring, hesitating, but the chancellor said, 'Go ahead,' nodding in satisfaction as he complied. Ferdi added, 'Now you're the Thain's representative, and those innkeepers had better extend every courtesy to you, or they'll be hearing from me.'  
  
Fastred nodded. He caught a glimpse of his brother, leading Rose along by the hand as if she were a small child on a walk in the garden, chatting of everyday inconsequentialities. The lass stumbled along, eyes unseeing, but at least they had her moving in the direction of Greenholm. When a guardsman had tried to pick her up, to carry her as Bergil was carrying Elanor, she'd stiffened and stopped breathing, until Leotred had swiftly intervened, sending the guardsman away, crooning gentle words, stroking one of the unresponsive hands as if it were a wounded bird.  
  
Leotred was the only one able to get Rose moving. To the Mayor's grief, she did not respond to anyone else, not even her father or brother, and Elanor was   
too traumatised herself to try to reason with her sister.  
  
...and so the little party came to Greenholm, to be met with shocked exclamations and swift action. Reginard was laid gently on a much-cushioned bed, and Ferdi sat down beside him, holding his hand, giving Fastred last-minute instructions.  
  
When he was finished, he was silent a moment, looking to the steward. 'Tell Pippin to hurry,' he said. 'I don't think Regi has much time.'  
  
'I'll do that,' Fastred replied, looking away as the other began to weep again.  
  
'I'm sorry, lad,' Ferdi said.  
  
'It's nothing,' Fastred soothed.  
  
'It is _not_ nothing,' Ferdi snapped through his tears. More gently then, he said, 'You see, he saved me from myself, when I was about your age, saved me from drowning in bitterness and resentment, saved my life, he did.' He breathed deeply, and added, '...and I came too late to save him.'  
  
Fastred laid a hand gently on his shoulder, having no words to say. Ferdi nodded, then said, 'All right, lad, be off with you now.'  
  
'I'll hurry,' Fastred said softly, and was gone from the room.  
  
***  
  
The seal of the Thain did wonders for innkeepers' attitudes, Fastred found. They'd barely noticed him, deigning to take his money as he'd travelled to Tuckborough in the first place, but now they could not do enough for him, bringing him food and hot drinks while a fresh pony was saddled, packing more food in saddlebags, offering him whatever he might need to speed him on his way.  
  
He left just after teatime, riding as the Sun sank behind him. The first stretch was the longest, for there were no inns between Greenholm and Michel Delving, only isolated farmhouses. When his pony began to tire about halfway to Michel Delving, he turned into a farmstead, shouting, and seeing the seal of the Thain (though the farmer had never seen it before, he knew about it, as every Shire inhabitant would), he was given a fresh pony, the farmer's fastest, and sent on his way.  
  
Coming into Michel Delving, he rode at a trot through the darkened streets until he came to the inn. When the ostler saw the seal, he sent a lad at a run, and soon the innkeeper, cloak thrown over his night clothes, was bowing and scraping before him, offering him the best room, and a hot dinner in a trice if he'd care to wait.  
  
He made the other settle for giving him a fresh pony and hastily assembled sandwich and water drawn fresh from the well in the courtyard, and then he swung into the saddle and was away.  
  
Now he was able to change ponies every ten miles or so, and the miles melted away more swiftly beneath the ponies' feet. He was glad to see the dawn, for it meant a hot drink while waiting for the fresh pony to be saddled, and the tea, sipped scalding and strong, drove the weariness from his brain for a time.  
  
Pushing each pony along at its best pace, he was able to travel from Michel Delving to Waymeet in half the time it had taken the group on their way to Greenholm, then on down to Whitwell, then Tookbank.  
  
He wasn't sure he'd be able to find his way over the tracks through the hills, but the innkeeper in Tookbank, seeing the seal of the Thain, instantly offered to guide Fastred himself the final stretch.  
  
The hobbit from Greenholm was glad of the company, for he was staggering in the saddle, but a cup of hot, strong tea did wonders to brace him up, and he mounted for the last stretch with fresh determination.  
  
The Sun was casting long shadows before them as they rode up to the Smials. There was a festival atmosphere about the place, bright cloths hung from all the windows, every hobbit he saw was wearing a great grin.  
  
'It's a boy!' the stable lad crowed as he stepped up to take the reins of their lathered mounts. 'Two of 'em, in fact! Twins!'  
  
'The Mistress?' the innkeeper demanded.  
  
'She's fine! The healer says she's fine!' the lad said, nearly dancing in his joy.  
  
'That's good news,' the innkeeper answered soberly. 'Thanks, lad. I'll take late supper here, and stay over, go back on the morrow, if I may.'  
  
'Certainly,' the lad bubbled, not noticing the others' lack of joy. 'I'm sure they'll find you a room, and you're welcome to join the celebration in the great room after late supper as well. The Thain's providing ale for everyone! The more the merrier!' He led the ponies away, still chortling.  
  
'Come lad,' the innkeeper said. 'Your news won't keep.'  
  
They trudged across the courtyard to the main entrance, Fastred weighed down by weariness, feeling as if he were slogging through a bog, to be greeted by the Took guarding the door. Seeing the seal of the Thain, the guard bowed and personally conducted Fastred to the Thain's private quarters.  
  
Indicating that the other should wait, the guard tapped on the door, soon emerging with the Thain.  
  
Thain Peregrin stopped short at seeing Fastred holding out the heavy ring. 'Where's Regi?' he asked, his eyes keenly searching the other's face.  
  
'Dying,' Fastred said bluntly. There was no good way to deliver the news he bore. The other stepped back a pace, then nodded, quickly assimilating the news.  
  
He stuck his head back into the private quarters, telling someone he'd be back in a trice. Taking Fastred by the arm, he closed the door, and walked rapidly in the direction of the study, shouting for Sandy.  
  
At the hobbitservant's near-instant appearance, he ordered the saddling of the swiftest ponies, and for Healer Woodruff to attend him at once in his study, and for travel rations to be packed up ready by the time the ponies would be.  
  
Reaching the study, he opened the door, pushing Fastred before him. 'What's happened?' he snapped. Fastred explained rapidly. When he heard of the abduction of the Gamgee lasses, the Thain paled, a muscle working in his jaw. 'Go on,' he said grimly.  
  
Fastred detailed the quick gathering of the hobbits, the party setting off at a trot along the paper trail the steward had left, being caught up halfway to the woods by the galloping guardsmen, who dismounted and led their horses, following the trackers.  
  
He paused when the rescue party reached the clearing, sickened again at the memory, swallowing hard, the meal he'd eaten in the saddle between Tookbank and Tuckborough suddenly sitting uneasily in his stomach.  
  
'What is it?' the Thain asked quietly. He knew it had to be bad. Any time hobbits mixed with ruffians, it turned out badly for the hobbits, as a rule.  
  
Fastred swallowed again, and haltingly described the scene in the clearing. The Thain blinked, seemed scarcely to draw breath, his hands curled into fists, his lips thin with rage.  
  
'And then, when they cut him down, they found that he lived, still... but...' Fastred faltered.  
  
'And what of Rose and Ellie?' the Thain asked quietly, steel in his voice.   
  
'Rose was safely up in a tree where Reginard had put her before the ruffians took him,' Fastred answered. 'Elanor was rescued from the ruffians by the guardsmen, some ways downstream, on their way to the River Lune, and then to the Sea.'  
  
A tap on the door, and Sandy stuck his head in. 'All's ready for you, Sir,' he said.  
  
The Thain nodded. 'Send Hilly and Tolly to me,' he rapped out, 'and I want you to put Mistress Gamgee in the best parlour, and send Nell to attend her there.'  
  
'Very well, Sir,' the servant said without question, withdrawing his head again.  
  
'Get yourself something hot to eat,' Pippin said then to Fastred. 'I'll meet you in the courtyard in half an hour.'  
  
As he was eating at a table in the great room, a healer came to see him. 'The Thain ordered this,' the hobbit said gravely, extending a covered cup. 'Here,' he said, 'It'll wake you up, give you energy for the ride back. You won't be good for much when it wears off, but it ought to get you to Greenholm, at least.'  
  
Fastred took the cup with a wondering look, and the healer sighed. 'Best drink it hot,' he said, 'tastes pretty awful. I don't like giving folk such a thing, but it's the Thain's orders. Guess he doesn't want you falling off your pony on the journey back.'  
  
'Right,' Fastred said, gulping down the hot contents and trying not to gag.  
  
'Good lad,' the healer said quietly, 'bravely done.' He nodded gravely. 'Give my best to Regi,' he added. 'Tell him Mardi's not giving up hope quite yet.'  
  
'Mardi,' Fastred repeated obediently.  
  
Just then the wee lass who'd been carried off to her rest by the steward on the eve of their departure for Greenholm ran up to them, laughing. 'Granda!' she shouted. Mardi picked her up, forcing a smile.  
  
'There's my little love,' he said.  
  
The little one turned to Fastred with a frown. 'You rode off with my da,' she pouted. 'Why didn't you bring him back again?'  
  
Fastred looked helplessly at the healer, who bounced the child in his arms, saying, 'Where's your mum got to? I thought I told her to put her feet up, and you were supposed to be telling her stories!'  
  
'She wanted an apple,' the little one said solemnly. 'Said she must have it, for the babe was asking for it. You know we must give the babe whatever he asks for, or he won't come out when he's supposed to, to greet us, just stay inside mum and pout.'  
  
'We cannot have that,' Mardi said, obviously glad for the change of subject. He put the lass down and took the little hand. 'Come, lass, let us track down that elusive apple for your mum before the day grows any shorter.'  
  
'The day's over already!' the little one laughed. 'Sun's abed!'  
  
'And so will you be, my lass, after we've delivered our apple,' Mardi said. He cast a last glance over his shoulder to Fastred, and the other nodded. The message would be delivered.


	9. I Stand with One Foot in the Grave

Note to readers: Just to let you know, ff.net is probably showing in a few places that it thinks it has 10 chapters of "Merlin" to offer. However, it is sadly deluded. There are, as of this upload, only 9.  
  
Bookworm, glad I made you think. What is that old quote? "In death we are in the middle of life..." or was it the other way around?  
  
FantasyFan, yes, I do believe you are the first to guess about the chapter titles, and yes, you are definitely warm. Very warm. Heading in the right direction, they are all JS Bach pieces. Can you be a little more specific? As to your other comments... *These* ruffians are gone, anyhow. Things do look very bad for Regi, indeed, but I liked your summation of his life... "A good life, and very few regrets..." would that we could all say the same when the end comes. As for strong ladies of the Shire, you are soon to be introduced to yet another. I am growing very fond of her already, though you will not get to meet her until chapter 12.  
  
Pansy, I study up on geography of the places I'm taking my hobbits, and where facts fail... I make it up (shhhh, don't tell anyone). Many thanks are due to Llinos, who lives in the "Shire" part of Britain and has patiently answered many questions when she probably had better things to do. "Fast" Fastred, eh? As a matter of fact, I think his name means something like "firm word" since "fast" means "firm" and "red" means word, advice, or counsel. Did some research to come up with his brother's name, which means, appropriately "gentle word".  
  
Aemilia Rose, sorry, posting a chapter a day sometimes it is hard to avoid cliffhangers. Just be glad it is not a chapter a week! (me too, the reviews motivate me to write and if I posted once a week I doubt I'd get very much motivation in my mailbox). I'm sorry this chapter does not resolve issues with Regi, you will have to wait until the next chapter. Or ask Dana. Perhaps she'll tell you. No, I forgot, she wouldn't tell her own mother what's for tea if she thought she didn't need to know... (is that right, Dana?)  
  
Xena, thank you for your comments. These were difficult chapters to write, but I apparently did something right, from what you said.  
   
All that said (and Thank You for all the lovely reviews. The Muse was in quite a good mood today and added stuff to the story I hadn't anticipated...), here is today's installment. Comments, as always, are very welcome. Hope to catch you tomorrow! (p.s. Am also adding a new chapter to "Flames" today, in case you were following that story as well.)  
  
*****  
  
9. I Stand with One Foot in the Grave**  
  
Sandy had ensured that a tea tray complete with cosied pot and plate of biscuits awaited them in the best parlour. Rose Gamgee took up her cup and sat down, saying to the chancellor's wife, 'Do you know what this is all about?'  
  
Pimpernel sipped her own tea and shook her head. 'I've no idea,' she said honestly. 'Pip's usually more straight-forward than this.' Certainly, her brother had enjoyed his mischief and his pranks in his youth, but years as Thain of the Shire had certainly steadied him. Of course, after the strain of the past anxious weeks, he might be about to break out in sheer relief. One never quite knew with Pippin.  
  
In the next moment, the Thain himself appeared. He waved away the offer of tea and perched on the edge of a chair, seeming ill-at-ease. Rose and Pimpernel waited, their sense of disquiet growing.  
  
Looking intently at the Mayor's wife, the Thain said, 'I'm afraid there's bad news.'  
  
'Sam!' she gasped, pressing one hand to her heart, but he shook his head.  
  
'Sam's fine,' he reassured, but something in his tone warned her. Pimpernel sat forward, putting a supporting hand on Rose's.  
  
'What, then?' she whispered.  
  
'Ellie and Rosie-lass are safe, now,' he said slowly, to preface his remarks.  
  
'They are safe, now,' Rose repeated carefully.  
  
'What is it, Pip? You're frightening her,' Pimpernel reproached, her hand tightening on Rose's.  
  
'There is no easy way to tell this,' the Thain said soberly. 'They were taken by ruffians, Rose,' he added, 'but they are safe now.' He emphasised the last word as Rose clung to Pimpernel in grief and horror.  
  
'What did...' she whispered. 'What did they do to my girls?'  
  
The Thain held up a calming hand. 'So far as I know, they were... untouched,' he answered. 'Rose escaped with Regi's help fairly soon after they were taken, and the guardsmen rescued Elanor not long after.' He took a folded paper from his belt and held it out. 'Sam writes to you to come.'  
  
Rose took the paper mechanically, opened it, read the few lines. She rose abruptly.  
  
'Leave the rest of the children here, they'll be safe enough,' Pippin added, rising from his own chair. Looking at his sister, he said, 'It's not a good idea to be found too close to the Bounds at present.'  
  
'Buckland?' Pimpernel said.  
  
Her brother nodded. 'I've already sent messengers in all directions, and a pony post rider ought to be well on the way to Buckland by now.' His face was set in grim lines. 'Evidently the ruffians are hunting hobbit lasses and children, for bounty.'  
  
Pimpernel gasped with horror, as Rose gave a sob. 'How soon can you be ready to go?' Pippin asked the Mayor's wife. 'I'll be sending you with a full escort.'  
  
'You're not going?' Pimpernel asked. Understandable, she supposed, considering how close he'd come to losing Diamond... and now the birth of twin sons to celebrate.  
  
'I'm leaving now,' Pippin answered. He hesitated, then said, 'Do not tell Rosamunda, but I've been called to take my leave of Reginard.'  
  
'No!' Pimpernel said softly, greatly pained, and Rose sobbed again.  
  
Reading the question in his sister's eyes, he said, 'All is well with Ferdi, Nell.'   
  
She nodded, rose to give him a hug. 'I'll stay with Rosamunda,' she said.   
  
'Don't tell her about her husband,' Pippin warned. 'There is no way she can go to him, and in her condition...'  
  
'It would not be good for her, or the babe, to upset her over something she has no power to change. I'll watch with her,' Pimpernel repeated. 'Give my best to my husband... and to Regi.'  
  
Rose wiped her eyes and raised her chin. 'I'll be ready to depart within the hour,' she said defiantly. 'You can tell my Sam that I'm on the way.'  
  
'Right, Rose,' Pippin answered, and turning on his heel, he left the parlour.  
  
The Thain's escort was ready, waiting in the torch-lit courtyard before the Smials. Pippin mounted his pony, only to be arrested by a shout from the entrance.  
  
Out of breath, Healer Woodruff panted her way to the Thain. She held up a stoppered flask. 'Here,' she gasped. 'I just thought of this. It helped when you were dying, after all, and if there's naught else to be done, well, what can be the harm?'  
  
'The Ent draught?' Pippin asked as he took the precious container.  
  
'Aye,' she said, her breath coming a bit easier. 'It's the last of it, too, so make good use of it.' She stepped back from the pony. 'Grace go with you,' she said, 'and give my best to the steward.'  
  
'I will,' Pippin said, then gave the signal. The Thain, his escort, and Fastred of Greenholm pounded out of the courtyard, on their way to the Far Downs.  
  
***  
  
'Rose,' Elanor said softly. 'Rose, you must take _something_.' When there was no response, her tone sharpened. 'Rose!'  
  
A gentle hand covered her own, and she turned to see Leotred. 'She's lost,' he said. 'She's gone deep inside, where naught can touch her. She's safe, for the nonce, or at least, she _feels_ safe.'  
  
Sitting down beside the silent figure, Fastred's brother placed one arm around the girl's shoulders, lifting a cup to her lips with his other hand. 'Come, lassie,' he coaxed, 'Surely your lips are that dry, you must want to wet your tongue, just a little bit?' Much of the water dribbled down Rose's chin, but Elanor was encouraged to see that she swallowed some.  
  
More softly, she said, 'Mum's coming, Rosie-lass, she'll be here soon.'  
  
Mayor Samwise entered the room, then, to sit down on his silent daughter's other side. He took up her hand, but she snatched it away, hugging herself, curling into a protective ball, burying her face in her knees. 'Rose,' he said, grieved.  
  
'She doesn't know you,' Leotred said.  
  
'She doesn't know anyone,' the Mayor answered soberly. 'Rose,' he coaxed. 'Rosie-lass, come back to us.' ...but there was no response, not even a whimper.  
  
The Mayor looked to Elanor then. 'How are you keeping, Ellie?' he asked her.  
  
'I am well,' she answered mechanically, her hands twisting the handkerchief that she had not loosed since Fastred had pressed it into her hands after the guardsmen brought her back to the clearing, where Reginard...  
  
Sam nodded sadly, rose to give her a hug. Despite herself, she stiffened, rejecting the embrace, and he slowly withdrew his arms, to say only, 'I'm here, lass.'  
  
'I know, Father,' she said carefully, and then the tears started again.  
  
***  
  
Ferdibrand jerked awake, realising he'd slept again, looking with dread to the steward, but he still breathed somehow, and Ferdi was able to keep on breathing himself, when he saw.  
  
He squeezed the hand he held. 'Hold on, Regi,' he said. 'Pip's coming, and I know he wants to see you.'  
  
The eyes half-opened, and the lips moved. The voice might have breathed the name, though it was too soft to more than guess at. 'That's right,' Ferdi said. 'The message went off teatime yesterday, so he's on his way here, even now.'  
  
The eyes closed again, but the shallow breaths continued. Ferdi didn't know how they'd gone on this long, but Regi'd always been a stubborn one, with a great sense of duty. The right and proper thing to do would be to take his leave of the Thain, after being his steward all this time. Ferdi had the feeling that Regi would keep holding on by sheer determination, until Pippin came.


	10. When Shall I Die?

Notes to readers:  
  
Pansy, to answer your questions:  
You asked: "Didn't Pimpernel marry a Bolger?" Yes, she did. But there's more story to come, in "Flames", mind... and she's not married to the Bolger in "Merlin", that's for sure.  
You asked: "Also, weren't the twins born by the wagon at the beginning of 'End of his Rope'?" Yes, there were twins born in "Rope", a girl and a boy, as a matter of fact. You are remembering correctly. But people can have more than one set of twins, after all.  
  
Dana, Thanks for the faithful reviews. I am still working out the details about what you previewed a snippet of, so you won't see it in your mailbox today. Enjoy the story anyhow!  
   
LadyJea, You are an astute reader! And you don't have to wait any longer. Today is the day we find out Regi's fate. Whew. And the very first chapter title ("Sheep May Safely Graze") is one of my favourite Bach pieces (the accompaniment is so flutelike and pastoral). My very favourite has to be "Jesu Joy of Man's Desiring" but sadly it would not fit in this story as a chapter title, so I will just have to listen to it by itself.  
  
FantasyFan, You got it, right on the money! Cantatas! Yes! (Ok enough exclamation points) I must admit that rather than taking inspiration from the titles, I am writing the chapters and then perusing the list of titles to pick out what fits best. Kind of like those standardized tests we used to have to take. ("What title best fits the paragraph?" I used to hate those! ...and now I'm doing it for fun...) Loved your insightful comments about the characters. JRRT doesn't say who marries Rosie-lass, does he?   
   
All that said, here is today's installment. Remember that ff.net continues to think, in places, that there are 11 chapters of "Merlin" posted, but we all know there are really ten, as of this upload, don't we?   
  
Comments, as always, are very welcome. Hope to catch you tomorrow! (p.s. Am also adding a new chapter to "Flames" today, in case you were following that story as well.)  
  
*****  
  
10. When Shall I Die?**  
  
The ponies forged on through the darkness, pushed as fast as their riders dared. The return trip might have taken longer than Fastred's grueling ride, just because of having to wait for the saddling of four ponies at each inn, instead of one, but for the fact that Fastred, Tolly and Hilly helped with the saddling whilst the Thain spoke with each innkeeper in turn to smooth the way for the coach to follow, bearing the Mayor's wife.  
  
Whatever had been in Mardi's brew was a marvel; Fastred felt as alert as if he'd just risen from a long, restful sleep.  
  
The dawn found them on the outskirts of Michel Delving. The innkeeper there was expecting them, had several ponies saddled and waiting as a matter of fact, for he was a shrewd hobbit and knew that the Thain invariably travelled with an escort. He also had hot sausage rolls fresh out of the oven, for them to eat as they rode along the first part of the long stretch to Greenholm.  
  
They stopped twice at farmsteads, exchanging two tiring ponies for two fresh ones each time, for it would have been difficult to obtain four ponies at any one place, unless they'd been willing to settle for plow ponies, willing, but slow.  
  
The Thain cast a weary eye at Fastred while they waited for the saddling at the second farm, Tolly and Hilly giving sparing drinks to their own ponies that must needs continue the journey, having joined the journey at the first farm they'd stopped at. 'I hope you're keeping track of what pony belongs to which inn or farm.' He'd had long days and nights of watching by his wife's side, and now this all-night and all-day ride was telling on him.  
  
Fastred nodded. As a matter of fact, he had, for it was one of the instructions the chancellor had pressed upon him before he left. He handed back his empty mug to the farmer's wife with thanks as the Thain hauled himself into the saddle, and pulled himself up onto his own pony. Mardi's potion seemed to be wearing off. 'Not far now,' he said to the Thain, in part to brace himself up for the last stretch. 'We'll be there by noontide, I think. It's not quite elevenses now.'  
  
***  
  
Samwise heard a shout as the riders were seen descending the cleft in the steep face of the Downs, and he came out to greet them. Fastred staggered as he slid from his pony, greeted by his sisters who had also come out at the shout. 'Take him to a bed,' the Thain said sharply, and his sisters led him away.  
  
'Well met,' Sam said as Pippin slid from his own pony. He took Pippin's arm and urged him to follow at a trot.  
  
'Regi?' Pippin snapped.  
  
'Still with us,' Samwise answered, 'but I don't know for how much longer.'  
  
They came to the room where Regi lay. At the door was a hobbit that Pippin recognised, from long experience, to be a healer. 'I want a feeding tube,' the Thain said, 'quick as you can fetch one.' Startled, the healer sprang to obey even though the order flew in the face of all good sense.  
  
Ferdi looked up, then turned to the figure on the bed, saying, 'He's here, Regi. Pip's come.'  
  
Pippin threw himself to the side of the bed, speaking Regi's name, fumbling at his belt. When the eyes opened, he said, 'Good, you're awake,' and to Ferdi, 'sit him up for me.'  
  
Kneeling beside Regi, Pippin continued in a soft tone, 'Hullo, Reg, I'll wager you're dying of thirst, eh?' They wouldn't have given him anything to drink, not with those wounds. The Thain wondered how he'd hung on this long. Ah, well, he'd always known the steward to be the most obstinate hobbit alive. 'I've brought you a bit of cheer.' He held the flask to Regi's lips. 'Drink up, now,' he said. 'It's not as bad as some of the healer's brews I've had to choke down.'  
  
'What in the world?' came the outraged voice of the healer, coming into the room with the feeding tube, only to be held back by Hilly and Tolly. 'You cannot...'  
  
'Hush, now,' Tolly said firmly. 'Wouldn't want to distract him and make him choke, now, would we?'  
  
'There we go,' the Thain said encouragingly, lowering the flask again. 'You've managed at least half. We'll save the rest for a bit later.'  
  
Ferdi laid Regi down again, not daring to hope. 'The Ent draught?' he whispered.  
  
Pippin nodded, his eyes on Regi's face. The steward's eyes opened wide in surprise, and the Thain smiled. 'Aye,' he said softly, 'There's a tingle, from the soles of your feet all the way to the top of your head. Feels as if the very hair atop your pate is stretching and growing, doesn't it?'  
  
His fingers sought an unbandaged spot on the steward's arm, and he gave an encouraging squeeze. 'I was about as far gone as you are, Reg, when Sam gave me the draught, remember?'  
  
Regi's eyes blinked as he remembered those dark days, when they'd given Pippin up and were just waiting for him to die, only to have Sam appear, of a wonder, bearing a draught from the fabled tree-folk who lived halfway to Gondor.  
  
Sam put a warning hand on Pippin's shoulder. 'You remember what happened after?' he said softly.  
  
Pippin nodded soberly. 'Aye,' he said, the agonies of the healing brought on by the draught was not a thing he would ever forget. 'But it's better than the alternative, isn't it, Reg?' The steward blinked again, and Pippin added, to encourage him, 'That babe of yours isn't born quite yet, but I've a fine set of sons to greet you when you return to the Smials.'  
  
'Diamond,' Reginard breathed.  
  
'She's fine,' Pippin said, 'and sends her greetings.'  
  
Regi's head moved slightly, a nod? ...and he closed his eyes. 'Hold on, Reg,' Pippin urged, hand tightening on the other's arm. 'Give it time to work.' The other kept breathing, that was something, at least.  
  
The Thain's escort, seeing that the deed was done, released the healer, who stepped forward, angry, but uncertain. 'Whatever are you about, giving him drink in his condition? Do you want him to die in agony?'  
  
'No,' Pippin replied, 'of course not.' He looked down again and said under his breath, 'Though he might have to live through a bit of agony in the next day or so, I am not expecting him to die.'  
  
The healer looked at him in horror, stunned. The Shire was ruled by one who'd taken leave of his senses. 'Steady,' Tolly said warningly, taking her arm again. 'We've done this before.' The healer choked in outrage, surely the Tooks were worse than ruffians, torturing dying hobbits in this way.  
  
'He's asleep,' Ferdi said.  
  
'Dying, most likely,' the healer snapped, and wrenching free of Tolly, strode to the bedside, defiantly taking up the limp wrist, only to stand silent in stunned disbelief. 'Stronger...' she gasped, then turned accusing eyes to the Thain and the Mayor behind him. 'His heart... it's going stronger. What did you do to him?'  
  
'I gave him a bit of marvel to drink,' the Thain said softly. 'It comes from a far land, where trees walk about and a wizard once ruled.'  
  
She stared at him, not certain now. The words indicated that he'd gone off his head, but the strengthening pulse in the steward's wrist told a different story.  
  
The Thain looked up, then, at the Mayor. 'Rose is on her way,' he said. 'She'll be a bit slower than we were, travelling by coach, but she'll be here by suppertime at the latest, I think.' Of course the coach and escort would travel through the night and into the day, stopping only for a change of ponies at each inn. Hard knocks on the innkeepers, this sudden demand for ponies. Good thing there was gold in the Thain's coffers, yet.  
  
Ferdi got up from his chair. 'Here,' he said abruptly to the Thain. 'Sit down, before you fall down.'  
  
Pippin sat, caressing the arm of the chair, saying softly. 'Pleased to make your acquaintance. I do believe one of your cousins is a very good friend of mine.'  
  
The healer shook her head. The Thain was talking to a chair...  
  
'Have you eaten?' Ferdi asked, and Pippin shook his head.  
  
'We had something in Michel Delving, I think, and at one of the farms there were tarts fresh out of the oven as we rode up, but nothing to speak of, really.'  
  
'Right, then,' Ferdi said briskly. Here was a problem he could tackle. Sitting still and waiting was not his favourite chore, though he would have sat by Regi's side until the end, and past it, without complaint. 'I'll see what I can round up for you.'  
  
Hilly and Tolly stationed themselves by the doorway as the Thain settled himself to watch, the healer warily seating herself in the chair on the other side of the bed, ready to prevent the crazed hobbit from perpetrating any other unspeakable acts on her dying patient.  
  
Ferdi returned, followed by Fastred's sisters, all bearing trays of food, and Hilly and Tolly attended to their own needs while Ferdi kept watch at the door. He and Sam answered all the Thain's questions as they watched together. Sam excused himself early on, only to return, saying that Elanor was sleeping.  
  
'How's Rose?' Ferdi asked.  
  
'There's no change,' Sam answered. At the Thain's inquiring glance, he added, 'It's like she's walking in her sleep. Her eyes are open, but she makes no sign of hearing or seeing anyone.'  
  
The Thain nodded soberly. He'd seen such cases in the Houses of Healing, during the siege of Gondor, Men frozen with horror at the sights they'd seen. He remembered the dreadful rain of severed heads, the gibbering orcs, the terrible Black Captain at the Gate as it fell to Grond. 'I don't think the Ent draught will help that sort of malady.'  
  
The Mayor shook his head sadly. He'd brought his daughters here, bright, pert, beautiful things, shining butterflies, only to see them now with their wings tattered by the rough handling they'd endured. Would they ever be whole again?  
  
'You couldn't have known, Sam,' Pippin said softly. 'Who would have thought that ruffians would dare to enter the Shire proper, with King's Men guarding the borders, and Shirriffs prepared to shoot any Man they encounter?' Bergil always travelled with a hobbit escort for this reason, as protection against those who would shoot first, seeing a Man, and ask questions afterwards. He sighed. 'I hope we got the word out soon enough,' he said. 'I don't want any more lasses to go through what Rose and Ellie were put through.'  
  
'Just a few more days and the message ought to reach Strider,' Sam said. 'I'd warrant he'll be a bit miffed.'  
  
'Just a bit,' Pippin said. 'Wonder what he'll do about it?'  
  
Reginard slept the rest of the afternoon, and Pippin dozed in his chair. Tolly stretched out on the floor while Hilly kept watch, and then Hilly slept in his turn. Trays were brought at teatime for everyone in the room, excepting the steward, of course.  
  
Healer Verbena would never have expected him to last until teatime, but Regi surprised her, evidently gaining ground as the hours passed. The Thain made no more hostile moves towards her patient--the healer was thankful for his evident exhaustion. As long as he slept he could do no more harm, she figured.  
  
Just before supper, Rose Gamgee was brought to the room, and Samwise sprang to his feet to greet her. 'Rose,' he said wearily. 'I'm so glad you've come.'  
  
'How's Regi?' she asked.  
  
'Better, I think,' Pippin answered, awakened by her arrival. 'Not any worse, at least.'  
  
Regi himself put in his tuppenny's worth. 'I'm getting better by the hour,' he whispered, surprising them all.  
  
Rose crossed to the bed, to lay a kiss upon his cheek. 'Good,' she said firmly. 'If things go right, we won't even have to tell Rosa about this little mishap until after the babe's born.' The steward smiled faintly at her choice of words.  
  
'Think you could manage some more?' Pippin asked then, and Regi nodded. Ferdi moved to lift the steward, while Pippin held the flask for him to drink, and the healer spluttered, a little less energetically than before. She was seeing definite improvement in her patient, inexplicable, but sure.  
  
'When will it start?' Regi whispered as they laid him down again, the last drop gone from the flask. Pippin hoped it had been enough.  
  
'I'm sure you'll be the first to know,' the Thain said quietly, and the steward gave him a wry grin.  
  
'When will what start?' Verbena asked apprehensively.  
  
'The cure... can be worse than the dying,' Pippin answered wryly. 'When they gave me the stuff awhile back, I thought I was being roasted alive before it had finished its work.' He looked thoughtfully at the empty flask. 'I certainly hope it has not lost any of its potency.'  
  
Healer Verbena shook her head in wonder. He was hoping his steward would feel he was being roasted alive? Only her strong sense of duty kept her from running, screaming, from the room.  
  
One of Fastred's sisters came to the door... Hollyberry? 'Ellie's awake,' she said.  
  
Sam took Rose's arm, and the Mayor and his wife went out of the room together.  
  
When Elanor saw her mother, she gave a muffled sob and ran to be enfolded in the safety of Rose's embrace. 'There, there,' Rose comforted, stroking the golden curls. 'It's all right, now, my lass, Mama's here now.' She patted and stroked as Elanor wept upon her breast, murmuring soothing phrases all the while. Her voice faltered a bit to see her Rosie-lass, just sitting, staring at nothing, a hobbit lass who looked much like Hollyberry holding her hand.  
  
When Elanor's sobs diminished, Rose lifted her daughter's chin with a gentle finger. 'I go to greet your sister,' she said softly. Elanor nodded, and allowed herself to be passed on to Samwise.  
  
Feeling as if she ought to tiptoe, Rose crossed the room to her other daughter. 'Rosie-lass,' she crooned. 'Rosie-girl...' But her younger daughter made no sign of hearing. Rose sat down next to her daughter, taking up the hand, pressing gently, receiving no answer, not even a flutter of fingers. Her daughter continued to stare straight before her, seeing nothing. 'Has she eaten?' Rose asked abruptly.  
  
Hollyberry shook her head. 'We've been able to get her to drink a bit, is all,' she answered.  
  
'O my lass,' Rose breathed. 'We've got to get something into you.' Looking to Holly, she said, 'Bring me some porridge thinned with cream, and well-sweetened, lass, will you? We'll try to feed her like a babe.'  
  
'A feeding tube, do you think?' Sam asked softly.  
  
Rose shook her head. 'I don't want to do anything to force her,' she answered. 'I think...' she said, fumbling for words. 'I think she needs reassurance, and coddling, and perhaps to be treated like a babe, cared for and loved and cossetted.' She swallowed hard, fighting back tears, for tears might be alarming to her sadly confused daughter. 'We'll try to love her back to us.'  
  
A flustered lad came to interrupt. 'I'm sorry, Sir,' he said to Sam. 'The Thain wants you. Urgent, he says.'  
  
Sam hugged Elanor, then released her, his eyes going to Rose. 'It's starting,' he said.  
  
'Go,' she answered. 'They'll need you to help stop him throwing himself out of bed.'  
  
'Who?' Hollyberry asked curiously.  
  
'The steward,' Rose answered, as Sam ran from the room, all mayoral dignity set aside.  
  
Hollyberry stared in astonishment. Last she'd heard, the steward could barely lift his eyelids, much less a finger. However did they expect the dying hobbit to throw himself out of the bed?  
  
Sam reached Regi's room to find the steward writhing in the grip of the four other Tooks. 'Glad you could tear yourself away,' Pippin gasped. 'He's getting stronger, I think.'  
  
Healer Verbena was watching in helpless dismay. Instead of a peaceful death, as comfortable as they could make it, she watched her patient twisting in agony, emitting moans that tore at her heart. 'How can you do this?' she whispered.  
  
'It's the only way to save him,' Sam said gently as he moved past her.  
  
'Take his head,' Pippin snapped, and Sam bent over the pillows, taking Regi's face between his hands.  
  
'Steady, now, Reg,' he said. 'By morning it'll be over. Fight it.' He looked to the healer. 'We'll need more strong hobbits to hold him, when we tire.'  
  
Nodding, speechless, released from the spell that froze her, Verbena swept from the room, and after rounding up five burly farmers, she took herself off to check on Rose and Elanor, and to look in on Fastred, who had fallen into a bed and now slept like one dead, scarcely breathing. Why had they invited the Thain and his Tooks to come to Greenholm, anyhow? Ruffians paled by comparison.  
  
She could not bear to watch in the steward's room any more this night. Telling Holly, and her sister Raz that she could be found in her bed, if needed, she took herself off, to toss and turn sleepless, helpless to do anything, silently cursing Fastred and his brother Leot for bringing Tooks to Greenholm.  
  
At dawn, she arose, splashing water on her face, creeping to the steward's room to find all still and quiet there, the fight over. She blinked away tears. She would never be over the sorrow of the steward's death throes, so completely unnecessary.  
  
The Thain looked up at her step, as did the chancellor on the other side of the bed. Ferdi nudged the still figure of the steward. 'Regi,' he whispered. 'Verbena's back. Would you like to order your breakfast now?'  
  
To her utter astonishment, the steward's eyes opened, he grinned, and started to sit up, the Thain moving to aid him, but once he was sitting, he thrust aside helping hands and swung his feet over the side of the bed.  
  
'Order breakfast?' he said. 'Only sick folk eat their breakfast in a bed. Where are my clothes?'


	11. I Go and Seek with Longing

Notes to readers:  
  
tallhobbit, Thanks for the suggestions. I actually tried quite a few things, but ffnet won't play... I suspect the problem has to do with a "counter" rather than an actual count of the chapters... every time you link in a chapter, the counter gets bumped, somehow, and I just don't feel like deleting the story and starting over again, so just know that ffnet is slightly deluded and look for one new chapter daily, unless I hit a snag (am deep in the depths of Harad at the moment, and while it is very interesting to write, my imagination is *tired* with the strain of imagining all this stuff. Am bribing the Muse with a super sized pina colada to have her tell me more, it was all her idea in the first place, after all...)  
  
Bookworm, Chapter 10 was a bit of fun, wasn't it? The Tooks are used to Pippin's whimsical ways, even as they chide him with the recurring "None of your nonsense, now..." But the poor healer, now... And we will have a bit more fun with chapter 11.  
  
All that said, here is today's installment. Remember that ff.net continues to think, in places, that there are 12 chapters of "Merlin" posted, but we all know there are really 11, as of this upload, don't we?   
  
Comments, as always, are very welcome. Hope to catch you tomorrow! (p.s. Am also adding a new chapter to "Flames" today, in case you were following that story as well.)  
  
*****  
  
****11. I Go and Seek with Longing**  
  
'Stay in the bed!' the Thain's command rang out, startling the healer.  
  
'Whatever do you mean? I'm good as new,' Regi protested, as Pippin and Ferdi took hold of him from both sides and eased him back down.  
  
'You came this close,' and Pippin's finger and thumb were not far apart, indeed, 'to dying, and while the Ent draught has done a wonder of healing in your body, it will take time for your body to replace all the blood you lost.'  
  
'I'm fine,' Regi said.  
  
'You might well crack your head on the floor if you try to get up too soon,' Pippin said, 'and then where would I be? We've given you the last drop as it is!'  
  
'But--' Regi said.  
  
'Stay in the bed!' the Thain reiterated.  
  
Regi sat back against the pillows they'd propped behind him. 'I do believe you're enjoying this,' he said.  
  
The Thain gave a grin. 'You know,' he replied, 'I am. I really am. All the times I had to lie there and take it when you said those same words to me...'  
  
'And now you're going to make me eat those words, is that it?'  
  
'I really think you'd prefer breakfast instead,' the Thain said, a lightness in his tone and a sparkle in his eye that had been missing for days.  
  
The healer huffed, but she could not deny that her patient was awake, alert, and much more alive than he had any right to be. 'How do you like your eggs cooked?' she said gruffly.  
  
'Are you going to cook them yourself?' Regi asked.  
  
'I just might do that,' she said. 'I've never cooked breakfast for a patient I'd given up, before.' She touched the back of her hand to the steward's forehead and shook her head. There was no sign of fever from the wounds that had been killing him hours earlier. She wondered what she would find beneath the dressings.  
  
'Just make sure his breakfast is hot and plentiful,' the Thain said.  
  
'And bring enough for the Thain, as well,' Ferdi said.  
  
'You're not going to sing that old tune again, are you?' Pippin asked in exasperation.  
  
'You've gone off your feed, you know you have, with the worry over Diamond, and the long ride,' Ferdi said, then added importantly, 'It's my job to notice these things.'  
  
Pippin sighed and shook his head while Reginard laughed at him. 'Back to normal,' the latter said.  
  
'Not quite,' the Thain answered. 'There's still a little matter of ruffians to clear up.'  
  
'That's not all,' the healer broke in, having made no signs of stirring herself to fetch breakfast, rather she seemed more likely to pester her patient half to death. 'I want to take a look at those wounds.'  
  
'What wounds?' Regi laughed. 'I'm a whole hobbit again.'  
  
'Lie back and let the healer work, Reg,' Pippin said quietly, and the steward shook his head.  
  
'You're going to keep throwing my own words back at me half the day, aren't you?'  
  
'More,' Pippin said, 'if need be.' He watched as Verbena lifted the dressing over one arm, to see the healing flesh, pink and healthy, no sign of infection. She probed with a gentle finger and nodded thoughtfully.  
  
'That elixir might have helped your body heal itself faster than you have any right to expect, but it's not at all healed, yet, Master Steward,' she said soberly. 'If what's inside of you looks like the outside, you had better lie still for a few days more... and broth, for starters, I shouldn't wonder.'  
  
'Broth?' Regi said in dismay.  
  
Pippin patted his shoulder sympathetically. 'Listen to your healer,' he intoned. Regi glared at him, and he grinned. 'Always wanted to be able to say that to someone,' he said. 'I've heard it enough times myself.'  
  
But the healer's face was grim. 'I just hope you didn't tear anything loose when you sat up a moment ago,' she said, with a pat on the arm. 'Ah, well, we'll know soon enough, I expect. And yes,' she added with a firm nod, 'broth, until we know that everything is back in working order again.'  
  
Regi gave a deep sigh, then considered the alternative. At least he was able to sigh deeply.  
  
'I never could understand why they call you a patient, when you're bound to feel so impatient,' Pippin mused.  
  
The corners of the steward's mouth tightened in irritation as he glanced up at his Thain. 'None of your nonsense, now, lad,' he snapped.  
  
Pippin smiled and patted his shoulder again. 'You don't know, Reg, how happy I am to hear you say that again.'  
  
Ferdi didn't say anything, but he looked away until he could master himself, cleared his throat, and said, 'Welcome back to the world, Reg.'  
  
'Glad to be here,' Reginard answered softly. He was feeling drowsy again, and the others quieted, sitting without speaking, as his eyelids drifted lower and his breathing became even. The healer gently closed her hand about his wrist, waited, counting, then withdrew her hand, nodding in satisfaction.  
  
'I don't know what that stuff was, but I could use a goodly supply of it.'  
  
'That was the last,' the Thain said.  
  
'Can you get more?' she asked.  
  
He shook his head. 'I don't even want to begin to speculate... would the tree-folk find it presumptuous of us to ask?'  
  
'And who'd go?' Ferdi said. '_You_ certainly cannot leave the Shire, and Mayor Sam's a bit tied up with the lasses at the moment...'  
  
'Leaving Merry to go,' Pippin said thoughtfully, then shook his head. 'No, I could not ask it of him.' He sighed. 'With the ruffians threatening, and Buckland so vulnerable, he could not leave his people, not at this time.'  
  
He gazed thoughtfully at Ferdibrand. 'That leaves you, I suppose,' he said.  
  
'Me?' Ferdi said, startled.  
  
'O aye,' Pippin answered. He smiled. 'Of course, you had better not mention that your sister is married to a woodcarver,' he reflected. Ferdi wanted to smack him one, but he contained himself. He was, after all, chancellor, and Pippin was, after all, Thain. It just wouldn't be seemly.  
  
On further consideration, the Thain shook his head. 'I cannot see the Ents setting up a regular trade with the Shire, somehow,' he said. 'And besides...' he shuddered. 'The stuff comes at an awful price. Poor Reg,' he added, 'I remember thinking, the second time the stuff was forced down my throat, that I'd rather die than go through the healing again...'  
  
'I thought you a fiend,' the healer admitted, 'to torture him so.'  
  
'It gave me no pleasure,' Pippin said soberly. 'I had to keep thinking of the alternative, his dying without ever meeting his newest child.'  
  
Ferdi nodded silently.  
  
***  
  
The feeding had not gone as well as Rose had hoped. They had gotten a little of the gruel into Rosie-lass, but not enough to sustain her life, were she to continue in this sad state. Not even Leot's coaxing could get much into her mouth, and even when they did get the spoon past her teeth, she would hold the food in her mouth, until Rose in desperation would stroke her throat to make her swallow.  
  
After the attempted feeding, they tried to lay her down on the bed, but she resisted them, pulling her knees to her chest and hugging them tightly, eyes still fixed in their empty stare. Rose sang a lullaby, but could not finish for the tears that threatened.  
  
Samwise put gentle arms around his wife, and led her from the room while Holly sat down again beside Rosie-lass and began to hum a soothing tune, stroking the hair back from the girl's face, then taking up a brush to gently work the tangles from the curls. Rosie-lass tolerated this, and so Holly continued to croon and brush, hoping the gentle touch would recall the lass from whatever place she'd taken herself off to.  
  
'Whatever are we going to do?' Rose whispered when they were safely out of the room. 'O Sam, what did they do to her?'  
  
'From what Ellie said, they carried the girls away, tied up in sacks, then dumped them out and bound them. Ellie said the ruffians were gentle enough, not wanting to damage them, expecting to get a good price for them in Harad.'  
  
'Harad?' Rose said, confused.  
  
'Off South,' Sam said. 'The Sunlands.'  
  
'They would have taken our lasses off South, and we'd never have seen them again,' Rose whispered.  
  
'Aye, and they'll be taking other lasses too, unless we figure out what to do about it,' Sam said, 'or the King does.'  
  



	12. Sleepers, Wake!

Note to Readers:   
  
Thanks, Bookworm, for the faithful reviews!  
  
I have added a new chapter to "Flames" as well, in case you are following that story.  
  
***  
  
**12. Sleepers, Wake!**  
  
Fastred wakened about noontide, having slept round the clock. He was stiff and sore, and hungrier than he'd ever been in his life. Raspberry, passing by, saw him stir and came to help him sit up.  
  
'Welcome back to the world,' she said. 'I thought you were going to sleep your life away.'  
  
'Almost wish I had,' he grunted, putting a hand to his forehead. 'O my head.'  
  
Raz put a soft, cool hand on the back of his neck. 'Head ache?' she asked.  
  
'I wish I could say it ached,' Fastred said. 'That would be an improvement over how it feels at the moment.'  
  
'Lie back down,' Raz said gently. 'I'll bring you something for your head.'  
  
'Bring me something for the stomach as well,' Fastred said. 'It's thinking the road's been washed out, naught's come down the trail for so long.'  
  
Raz smiled. 'Same old Fastred,' she said. 'The day you go off your feed's the day I'll start to worry about you.'  
  
She brought him back an herbal concoction, 'For your head,' she said firmly when he viewed it with suspicion.  
  
'The last herbs I drank did this to my head,' Fastred grumbled, but he drank obediently. Halfway through his meal, the pounding subsided and he breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
'How long did I sleep?' he thought to ask.  
  
'You arrived yesterday noontide, and it's just after noon now,' Raz answered, only to see her brother bolt upright from his sitting position, nearly spilling the tray of food.  
  
'I had a message for the steward,' he said, his expression grieved. 'I promised I'd deliver it.' He sighed, dropping his eyes. 'It's probably too late, now.'  
  
'If it was a farewell message, yes, it is too late,' Raz smiled, and his shoulders slumped, for, eyes on the ground, he did not see his sister's reassuring expression.  
  
'I was afraid of that,' he said, low.  
  
Raz took him by the arms to give him a little shake. 'Fastred, look at me,' she said firmly.   
  
He raised his head. 'How's the chancellor taking it?'  
  
Her lips twitched in irritation. 'He's taking it very well,' she said with asperity, 'seeing as how the steward hasn't died.'  
  
'Hasn't died? He's still suffering? How can you smile at a time like this?' Fastred said in shock.  
  
'Of course, I'd forgotten you didn't know,' Raspberry said contritely. 'I just imagined that you knew the Thain came bearing the steward's cure.'  
  
'The Healer at the Smials gave him a flask of something...' Fastred said slowly. 'I just thought it was to sustain the Thain through the long ride, when he'd gone without sleep himself for so long, watching over his wife.'  
  
'That flask of something wrought a wonder of healing in the steward,' Raz answered. 'He's sitting up, sipping broth, even as we speak. So go and deliver your message. I think he wants to thank you, anyhow, for fetching the Thain so quick.'  
  
Fastred set his tray aside, hunger forgotten, and followed Raz to the steward's room.  
  
'Fastred!' said the Thain, seeing him come in. 'Good to see you awake. How's your head?'  
  
'Getting better, thank you, Sir,' he answered. 'It doesn't quite feel as if it's about to roll off, now.'  
  
'Good, good,' the Thain said.  
  
'I have a message for you,' Fastred said, crossing to the bed and meeting Regi's eye. The steward certainly looked much better than the last time he'd seen the hobbit.  
  
'O? What's that?' Regi asked. He turned an accusing eye on Pippin. 'You didn't tell Rosa about me, did you?'  
  
'Not at all,' Pippin assured him.  
  
'No, the message is from Mardi,' Fastred broke in. 'He wanted you to know...'  
  
'What?' Regi asked.  
  
'He hasn't given up hope quite yet,' Fastred said slowly.  
  
Regi chuckled. 'Good for him,' he said. 'Best father-in-love a hobbit could ask for, and a healer in the bargain.'  
  
'I sent word back to the Smials this morning,' Pippin said quietly. 'Don't want them to keep thinking that you're dying, or dead; someone might let something slip to Rosamunda.'  
  
'I'm in enough trouble at the moment as it is,' Regi said, 'for having been shot full of holes by ruffians. If she thought I'd died, I don't know what she'd do to me.' He shuddered.  
  
'You made another joke,' Ferdi said accusingly. 'Are you sure you're not dying?'  
  
'Fairly sure,' Regi said, putting down his empty mug. 'Though I might starve to death if they keep me on broth for long.'  
  
'Well, just don't make a habit of it,' Ferdi grumbled. 'You, making jokes, is not something I'm used to.'  
  
'I'll do my best,' Regi said equably, 'but with all these holes in my body, I fear much of my good sense has already leaked out.' He took a deep breath and stretched cautiously. 'You know, it takes nearly dying to make one truly appreciate living.'  
  
Surprisingly, Ferdi smiled, a faraway look in his eyes. Unconsciously, his fingers went to the rope scars on his neck as he answered, 'I do think you have the right of it, cousin.'  
  
The Thain nodded soberly. 'I'd had the same thought myself, a time or two.'  
  
Fastred felt distinctly out of place. 'Well, I'll take myself off now,' he said.  
  
The Thain seemed to waken from a dream. 'You do that, lad,' he said. 'And if you happen to look in on Rose and Elanor, let the Mayor know I want to see him.'  
  
'Yes, Sir,' Fastred said, and left the room.  
  
***  
  
He delivered his message to Sam, then looked to Elanor, who sat by her sister on the bed. 'How is she?' he asked.  
  
'The same,' Elanor said, tears in her eyes. 'I don't know what we're going to do.'  
  
'I have an idea,' Fastred said.  
  
Leot met his brother's eyes. 'Are you thinking...?'   
  
Fastred nodded. 'It's worth a try,' he said. 'She's slipping away, I can see the difference from when we walked her back here.'  
  
Mistress Rose gulped back a sob. 'What idea?' she said shakily.  
  
Fastred crossed to Rosie-lass, saying to Elanor, 'If I may...?' She rose from the bed to make room for him. He bent down on one side of Rosie-lass while Leotred took her from the other side.  
  
'Rosie-lass,' Leot said in a gentle sing-song. 'Rosie, Rosie-lass, 'tis time to rise.' Like a sleepwalker, she slowly came to her feet, and with Fastred at one elbow and Leotred at the other, she began to walk carefully towards the door.  
  
'Where are you taking her?' Mistress Rose whispered, but Leotred shook his head slightly at her, all the while crooning a sing-song of encouraging nonsense.  
  
Elanor and her mother followed them out of the door, down the tunnel to the door of the steward's room. Sam had just entered and was standing just inside the door when it opened again, and he turned to see his wandering daughter. 'Rose?' he gasped, but the little group pushed past him towards the bed.  
  
Halfway, Rosie-lass stopped, stiffening.  
  
'Rose?' Regi said quietly, from the bed. He'd been informed of her condition, but seeing her was still a shock to him.  
  
She gave a gasping sob, then tried to turn and flee, but the brothers held her firmly. 'No!' she said. 'No!'  
  
'Rosie-lass,' Regi said, trying to rise from the bed, only to be pushed back by Ferdibrand.  
  
'No, you're dead, they killed you and it's all my fault,' she sobbed.  
  
'I'm not dead, far from it,' Regi said, finally letting Ferdi setlle him back against his pillows.  
  
'Don't--don't let his ghost come for me,' Rose pleaded to her father, as if seeing him for the first time.  
  
Samwise crossed to her, taking her in his arms, holding her as she sobbed, welcoming her wakening. 'It's all right, lass, he's not a ghost, he's real as all the rest of us.' He guided her to the bedside.  
  
'Come, lass,' Regi said, holding out his hand, bandages still covering the healing wounds on the arm. She shrank back from his touch, but when it turned out to be warm flesh rather than the icy chill she expected, she took another shuddering breath.  
  
'You're... alive?' she whispered.  
  
'I certainly hope so,' Regi said. 'If I'm not, then I'm in terrible trouble with my wife.' He winced as Rosie-lass threw herself against him, but held her gently, stroking her hair, murmuring reassurance.  
  
'It was all my fault, all my fault,' she sobbed. 'If I'd come down...'  
  
'If you'd come down, they would have hurt you, as well,' Reginard said, 'and I really would have died, to see that, lass.' She allowed herself to be soothed and cossetted, and when she was calm, Regi said, 'I imagine you're hungry, are you not? How would you like to share a cup of broth with an old pincushion like me?'  
  
Rosie-lass gulped back a sob and gave a watery smile. 'I'd like that just fine,' she said. Rose and Sam, tears of joy bathing their own faces, engulfed their found daughter in an embrace.   
  
Fastred stepped to the watching Elanor's side, taking up her hand and giving it a squeeze. She smiled back at him, returning the squeeze. 'Everything is going to be all right, now,' he murmured.  
  
'Yes,' Elanor said, and nodded. 'Thank you.'


	13. The Meek Shall Not Go Empty

Note to Readers:   
  
I am going on vacation for a week, and while I have written well ahead in both "Merlin" and "Flames", I might not be able to post daily again until after next weekend (say, the 7th of July). However, if I am able to sneak online at all, I will keep posting chapters... Hey, you all keep reviewing, okay? Wouldn't want you to get out of the habit... Those lovely reviews, they keep the Muse happy, along with her pina coladas, and she keeps throwing ideas at me, so it works out for everyone.  
  
I have added a new chapter to "Flames" as well, in case you are following that story.  
  
***  
  
**13. The Meek Shall Not Go Empty**  
  
The King was breakfasting with Arwen and the visiting Prince Imrahil when the messenger was shown in. He was caked with mud, and swaying with weariness, and he had serious doubts about the state of his horse, but pushing all this aside, he thrust the message at the King with the briefest of bows.  
  
'Message from the Halflings, Sire,' he said.  
  
Elessar rose, taking the message, scanning the contents. His lips tightened, and Arwen said, 'What is it, my love?'  
  
'The North-kingdom has been fairly quiet, these past six years, I believe,' Imrahil commented.  
  
'No longer,' Elessar said shortly. 'The hobbits are being hunted as trophies.'  
  
Shocked exclamations greeted his pronouncement, and he nodded. 'Evidently one of the rulers of Harad has a new hobby... a collection of exotic "pets", and he wishes to add hobbits to his collection. He has announced a generous reward for the capture and delivery of such "creatures".'  
  
'Pets,' Imrahil murmured, sickened.  
  
'Ruffians have entered the Shire proper to try to kidnap hobbits. Mayor Samwise's eldest daughters were taken.'  
  
'Elanor?' Arwen gasped, thinking of her little maid of honour.  
  
Elessar nodded grimly. 'Rose and Elanor were rescued, but Pippin's steward was mortally wounded, the message says.'  
  
'What are we going to do about this?' Arwen asked.  
  
'An attack upon the Shire is an attack upon my Kingdom,' Elessar said soberly. He looked to the guardsman at the door. 'Send the Captain of the guard to me,' he said.  
  
'At once, Sire,' the guardsman saluted, and was gone.  
  
Turning back to Imrahil, Elessar said gravely, 'Are you with me on this, brother?'  
  
Imrahil nodded. 'I think we can persuade my neighbors, the Haradrim, to give up their little... pastime.' He thought a moment, then said, 'What kingdom?' Harad was divided into many petty kingdoms, after all, and the Prince of Dol Amroth had not heard of any rulers collecting Pheriannath, recently.  
  
The King looked at the message. 'They don't say,' he answered slowly.  
  
'Near Harad, or Far Harad?' Imrahil went on. 'It would help to plan just whose door we're to go a knocking on.'  
  
Elessar sat back in his chair, thinking deeply. At last, he said, 'The traders ought to know. They travel through all the lands with a certain amount of impunity... and they hear the news.' He looked to his scribe. 'Bring me a trader who's recently returned from the Haradwaith.'  
  
'Yes, Sire,' the scribe rose, gave a quick bow, and left.  
  
A knock at the door heralded the Captain of the guard. Elessar gave swift instructions, and he was soon on his way to carry them out.  
  
***  
  
At the same time the messenger of the King was sliding from his staggering mount in the White City, another messenger was pushing a latherred pony as fast as he dared down the steep cut in the Far Downs, to Greenholm. He blew the horn he carried, to warn of his approach, and was greeted by a crowd of hobbits as he reined his pony to a stop.  
  
'The Thain! I need the Thain!' he shouted.  
  
One of the farmers stepped forward. 'I'll take you to him,' he said. 'This way.'  
  
The messenger followed, wishing the farmer might break into a jog, but he supposed forward progress was better than no progress at all. Finally they reached a room where the door was ajar, and quiet conversation was heard within.  
  
'Hullo!' the farmer shouted. 'Message for the Thain.'  
  
One of the Thain's escort pushed the door a little wider, and recognising Ilberic Brandybuck, stood aside to let him enter.  
  
'Ilberic!' Pippin said, rising from the chair beside the bed. 'Did Merry get my message?'  
  
'Too late,' Ilberic said grimly. 'Ruffians had already struck when your news arrived.'  
  
'And?' Pippin asked, dread in his heart.  
  
'They've taken...' he swallowed hard, and continued, 'several Brandybucks, came over the High Hay in broad daylight.'  
  
'Who?' Pippin demanded. Ilberic took a piece of paper from his belt, holding it out with a shaking hand.  
  
The Thain took the paper, unfolded it, read the names on the list, looked up slowly. 'Celandine... your sister?'  
  
Ilberic nodded. 'She's one of them. The rest are her eight children, two lasses, tweens, and half a dozen littler ones. They were on a picnic when they were taken.'  
  
'They took the entire family?' Ferdi gasped, and Ilberic nodded again, soberly.  
  
'Berimas was working with Doderic; he was to have joined them later. He came, only to find his family gone, and the dying Shirriff...'  
  
'You're sure it was ruffians?' Pippin asked, but he already knew the answer.  
  
'A Shirriff saw the abduction, tried to sound the alarm, but was struck down. He was still alive when found and was able to tell what had happened, and which way the ruffians departed. Too late... Merry thinks they went down to Haysend and took to the River from there.'  
  
'They probably won't be harmed, if that's any comfort,' Ferdi said. 'They're wanted as "pets" for a prize collection, and must be delivered intact.'  
  
Pippin, feeling weak in the knees, sat down again. Ilberic looked to the bed for the first time. 'Reginard! I'd heard you were dead!'  
  
'Not quite,' Regi said quietly. His eyes were dark with grief at the thought of hobbits in the hands of those monstrous ruffians.  
  
***  
  
Celandine Brandybuck nursed her littlest as she tried to comfort her weeping children. They must be in a boat, she knew from the rocking motion, rather than some other conveyance. The ruffians had left their hands unbound, that was handy, but with chains about their ankles, the possibility of freeing themselves seemed remote. Chained together here, in the dark, stuffy hold, she wondered where they were being taken. The ruffians had been surprisingly gentle, even though they'd stuffed the hobbits into sacks and carried them bumpingly along, before removing the sacks and chaining them to the walls in this confined space. She'd managed a quick glance around before the lantern had been taken away.  
  
Now she said brightly, 'How about a song, then? Who knows a good song to sing?' She began to sing one of the nursery rhymes that was customary to comfort little ones when a storm blew up, the one about the wind blowing the leaves round and round, round and round, round and round, and soon one timid little voice joined in, to be followed by another.  
  
'The raindrops, they come down and down, down and down, down and down...' she sang softly, and to her relief, one of the tweens began to sing in a watery voice, and soon the other did. When the song ended, the only sound in the darkness was the soft smacking of the nursing babe.  
  
'There, now, that's better,' she said cheerily. 'Who knows another they'd like to sing?'  
  
Little Berilas, brave lad that he was, began a song about a fox and a clever coney, and after that they sang the one about the acorns falling from the trees, which was naturally followed by the leaf song. They were startled into silence when the hatch above them was pulled aside, and a rough voice said, 'Keep that noise down, you hear?' A sack was tossed into their midst, but the hatch was left open. 'If you're quiet, we'll let you have light, for a bit, but if you squeak, we'll leave you in the dark.'  
  
Celandine looked up to see the ruffian's bulk outlined against the light, peering at them, and she nodded vigorously, saying softly to the children. 'All right, mice, we must be quiet now, very quiet, just like the mouse game, remember?'  
  
'That there's food,' the ruffian said, 'so don't let it go to waste.'  
  
At Celandine's nod, young Poppy opened the sack, finding coarse bread and chunks of cheese, and two leathern flasks that proved to contain water, overlarge for hobbit hands, but welcome for all that. The children were able to drink with the tweens holding the flasks for them, and the food served to calm them still more.  
  
This was a good sign, Celandine thought. At least they were being fed. One of the little ones tugged at her dress, whispering.  
  
'I beg your pardon...?' she called. 'Hullo?'  
  
The face appeared again. 'I thought I told you, no talk!' he said grumpily, and started to pull the hatch cover to again.  
  
'Wait!' Celandine called desperately. 'We've little ones here, who need to... need to...' She didn't know quite how to put it, to this stranger, and a Man at that.  
  
Thankfully he understood. Leaving the hatch cover half closed, he disappeared, but was quickly back, lowering a copper pot with tight-fitting cover down to them. 'Use the pot, but be sure to fasten down the lid when you're done,' he said. 'If'n we hit a rough patch...' Celandine could just imagine. The hold was smelly enough without having to put up with _that_.  
  
'Thank you,' she called back softly. No harm in good manners, after all.  
  
Since singing made more noise than the ruffians allowed, Celandine began to tell a story instead, in a soft tone that would not go beyond the hatch cover. Little Poppy nestled close to her side, and the tweens took a little one under each arm. She spoke in a sing-song, droning way that soon had her listeners drowsy, and one by one they nodded off to sleep, including baby Blossom, cuddled softly against her breast, in illusion of safety.


	14. Heart and Mouth and Deed and Life

Note to Readers:   
  
I am going on vacation for a week, and while I have written well ahead in both "Merlin" and "Flames", I might not be able to post daily again until after next weekend (say, the 7th of July). However, if I am able to sneak online at all, I will keep posting chapters... Hey, you all keep reviewing, okay? Wouldn't want you to get out of the habit... Those lovely reviews, they keep the Muse happy, along with her pina coladas, and she keeps throwing ideas at me, so it works out for everyone.  
  
I have added a new chapter to "Flames" as well, in case you are following that story.  
  
***  
  
**14. Heart and Mouth and Deed and Life**  
  
'They've taken an entire _family_?' Bergil said, feeling sick.  
  
'Celandine and her eight,' Pippin answered. 'You remember her...?'  
  
'I was at little Blossom's naming day,' Bergil said grimly. 'And what of Berimas? Is he dead? Elanor said she heard the head ruffian give orders to take only the "women" and children and kill the "men".'  
  
'He would be dead, had he been there,' Pippin said quietly. 'The ruffians killed a Shirriff who tried to intervene.'  
  
'I'll have to send another message to the King,' Bergil said soberly, 'to let him know that there are now hostages involved.'  
  
'It might affect his course,' Pippin agreed. He shook his head. 'I'm glad I'm not in his shoes.'  
  
'You don't wear shoes,' Regi said quietly. Pippin started to reply sharply, only to see the steward's nod towards the door.  
  
Elanor stood there, her face stricken. 'I was looking for my Dad,' she said faintly. Ferdi went to her quickly, taking her arm, leading her to a chair.  
  
'Put your head between your knees,' he said, supporting her as she sagged, and easing her up again when the fainting fit seemed to have passed. 'There, now, Nell, that's better, I think.'  
  
'The ruffians...' Elanor stammered. 'They've taken... more? Lasses and children? ...and killed...' she could not finish.  
  
'Steady, Nell,' Ferdi said gently, rubbing her back with a soothing hand. 'Would you like a glass of water?'  
  
The Thain took the hint and filled a glass, passing it to Ferdibrand, who held it to Elanor's lips and encouraged her to sip.  
  
'Lasses...' Elanor said again. 'They wanted Rose; they were going to...' She shuddered. 'I could see it in their eyes...'  
  
'Now, now, lass,' Ferdi soothed, but she didn't seem to hear him.  
  
'The whole time they were playing... their "game",' her voice was bitter, 'they kept looking for her... I heard what they were saying,' she continued. 'Rose could hear, too, from the tree. She heard everything. She saw everything.' Elanor buried her face in her hands and wept while Ferdibrand soothed and Pippin stood by, feeling helpless.  
  
'And so did you,' Reginard said quietly. 'You heard and saw everything, but you stayed strong, Ellie, you did everything right.'  
  
'But I didn't,' Elanor sobbed. 'I didn't. I couldn't do anything.'  
  
'Ah, Ellie,' Reginard said, 'Don't you even know what it is you did?'  
  
She raised her head then, to stare at him.  
  
'No,' he continued, 'I see that you don't... Don't you see, Ellie, when they were shooting those arrows into me, they hoped you'd break. They hoped you'd tell where Rose had gone, to try to save me.'  
  
Elanor took a great, shuddering breath as Ferdi's hand gently clasped her shoulder.  
  
'That's right, Nell,' he put in. 'Ruffians are all too fond of such games.'  
  
'But telling wouldn't have saved me, you know, Ellie,' Reginard went on in a reasonable voice. 'They still would have killed me, and they would have... well, you know what they would have done to Rosie-lass. You saved your sister's life, Ellie, never forget that.'  
  
Elanor stared into the steward's eyes, and he nodded slowly. Suddenly, very carefully, she rose from the chair, went to her knees by the bed, and laid her head upon his chest as if she were once more a young lass being soothed by the steward, as in the olden days when he picked her up with a scraped knee during a visit to the Smials.  
  
He patted her back gently. 'You did just the right thing, Ellie, and I never want you to forget it.'  
  
'I won't,' she whispered against his chest, and sighed.  
  
***  
  
The King's messengers travelled swiftly in all directions, to Rohan and Ithilien, to the Glittering Caves, to Ringlo Vale, Morthond, the Langstrad of Anfalas, Lamedon, Pinnath Gelin, and Lossarnach; and to Dol Amroth went a message in the hand of Prince Imrahil himself. The messengers bore the red arrow, token of Gondor, a call to arms, and there was a great stir everywhere the message was taken.  
  
The King had outlawed slavery in all the land, and in Harad slavery was rearing its ugly head once again. It must be stamped out, and quickly, before the ill could spread.  
  
Gimli the Lord of the Glittering Caves led a group of axe-wielding dwarves, marching southwards, to join a great army of the Rohirrim on their way to Gondor from the Riddermark. Prince Faramir, Legolas at his side, led out a force of Men and Elves together from Ithilien, and Men rode or marched from all the other Outlands, to muster on the Pelennor.  
  
Looking over the field from the walls of the city, Gimli remarked, 'It seems a great gathering, to rescue just a few little folk, doesn't it?'  
  
Legolas looked at him in astonishment. 'Have you forgotten that it was just a few little folk who rescued a greater gathering than this from certain destruction?'  
  
The dwarf snorted. 'That is not what I meant at all,' he said. 'I'm just thinking... what's to stop this petty king of a small part of the lands of Harad from killing the hobbits and denying they were ever there at all?'  
  
'A grim thought,' Legolas said soberly.  
  
'We could go knocking on his door with the entire army, tear his kingdom apart, and never find the bodies,' Gimli went on.  
  
'You're grimmer than usual this day, old friend,' Legolas commented.  
  
The dwarf shrugged. 'Just trying to look on the bright side.'  
  
'And what's the dark side?' Legolas wanted to know.  
  
'The army could crush the hostages under their feet and never know,' Gimli muttered. 'Remember how tiny little hobbits are?'  
  
***  
  
Celandine had no idea how long they stayed in the hold of the little ship, for when they had finished eating, the hatch was shut again and they were left in darkness. Sometimes the hatch would be opened, and they would see stars above, and a lamp would be hung to light their mealtime; at other times, they saw sunshine.  
  
One day the meal was slightly better than their previous fare, and the bottles they expected to be full of water proved to contain some sort of sweet juice, which they drank eagerly. Some time after they finished eating and drinking, there came a shuddering bump against the hull, and shouting erupted outside. The hatch was opened, and a Man came down, carrying sacks over his arm.  
  
'Not the sacks again!' Celandine protested, but for some reason she was too sleepy to resist. She realised that there must have been something in the food or drink to make them sleepy. She wound the shawl about herself, tucking the babe in securely, and then the sack was popped over her head. She did not feel herself lifted up through the hatch, into the open air.


	15. You Shall Weep and Lament

Note to Readers:   
  
I am going on vacation for a week, and while I have written well ahead in both "Merlin" and "Flames", I might not be able to post daily again until after next weekend (say, the 7th of July). However, if I am able to sneak online at all, I will keep posting chapters... Hey, you all keep reviewing, okay? Wouldn't want you to get out of the habit... Those lovely reviews, they keep the Muse happy, along with her pina coladas, and she keeps throwing ideas at me, so it works out for everyone.  
  
I have added a new chapter to "Flames" as well, in case you are following that story.  
  
***  
  
**15. You Shall Weep and Lament**  
  
Remembering Day at Brandy Hall was always a solemn occasion, but this day there was a mood of despair mixed in with the usual sorrow. It was always difficult when someone was lost to the River, drowned, the body never found. Remembering Day brought closure in such cases, but in the case of Berimas' family, carried off by ruffians, their ultimate fate unknown, the day only made the ache of loss all the more acute.  
  
Berimas, Ilberic, and Doderic lit the candles on the nine boats, for Celandine and her children, and set them afloat on the River, at the same time as the Shirriff's family set his memorial afloat, since all had been lost together. The ten little boats floated into the current, as a group, until they hit a swirling in the waters that broke them apart, sending them separately downriver. Merry, Master of Buckland, placed a hand on Berimas' shoulder, wishing he had any words at all to speak, and then Ilberic and Doderic led their sister's husband away, choosing not to wait to watch the rest of the memorial boats lit and launched.  
  
The crowd was sober, the singing subdued, and there was little of the usual talk at the feast afterwards; as a matter of fact, people ate with less appetite than usual.  
  
Berimas broke down completely and had to be led away, to mourn the loss of his entire family.  
  
Not all of Buckland stood on the banks of the River to celebrate the lives of loved ones remembered. Many grim-faced hobbits patrolled the High Hay and the riverbank, watching for the return of ruffians.  
  
***  
  
King Elessar met with his Captains in a great pavilion on the field of the Pelennor. His advisors sat behind him, faces grave. Among them were two not in armour, dressed rather plainly, though their clothing was of good quality, suitable for long journeys, and fine enough to admit them to the more rarified strata of society, without being flashy enough to call attention to the wearer.  
  
Legolas nudged Gimli. 'Now we find out the meat of the message.'  
  
Elessar measured the company with his steady gaze. 'We are gathered here to cut off the head of a serpent before it grows to striking length,' he said. 'It already has a deadly bite, as others have found to their dismay.' He nodded to one of the plainclad Men, who rose to address the gathering.  
  
'My name, it does not matter,' he said clearly. Legolas frowned slightly at the accented words; an accent he could not place. 'My homeland--ah, but my home is wherever I pitch my tent. My loyalty, however...' he bowed to Elessar. 'My loyalty is to Gondor, for the shelter of my family during the Dark Times.'  
  
He eyed the company. 'The King has asked me to speak of my travels. I can tell you much of southern lands; my life is a constant journey between the White City and the Haradwaith. I speak to many people, I hear many things, and what is not told to me directly, I sometimes overhear...'  
  
He told now of a small kingdom in Harad, which enjoyed the blessing of a small harbour on the coast, a gap in the rocky cliffs. Its ruler had used the harbour to gain a hold over neighboring states, who enjoyed his relatively generous terms, compared to the heavy fees exacted by the harbourmaster at Umbar, not to mention the "accidental" losses they sustained, sailing in those waters, where the occasional corsair yet plied the waves.  
  
Giving Umbar a wide berth, landing in the harbour at Haragost, the traffic of ships and merchants and trade with neighboring nations steadily increased the ruler's power until he decided he needed more land, more peoples, ever more power. He married the daughters of several neighboring kings, for starters, and then when the other royal families mysteriously succumbed to accident or illness (poison?), he appropriated those lands in his brides' names.  
  
'But then he coveted a land where the ruler had no marriageable daughters,' the merchant said. 'What to do? He engineered a petty border dispute and used it to bring his army against his neighbor. The land had valuable mines, where gold is to be found, and thus there was need for labourers... he began to conquer more land, to find slaves to work in his mines. He grows ever more rich and powerful. They call him... the Lion, and he is a dangerous foe, as other nations have found to their undoing.' There was a silence as the assembled contemplated this report.  
  
'But what of the hobbits?' Gimli spoke up.  
  
The second merchant looked to the King for permission, then spoke up, not quite as confident as the first. 'The son of the Lion has a collection of exotic pets. He heard of the little people, perhaps from a merchant,' he winced, not _himself_, certainly, but he was a merchant, and he did not want these warriors to blame _him_ for another's gossip. 'His father wished to please him, and sent word that he would pay for the little creatures, giving their weight in gold for each one brought safely to the palace.'  
  
'Little _creatures_?' Gimli rumbled in outrage.  
  
The second merchant shrank back, raising his arms as if to shield himself from a blow. 'Not _my_ words,' he begged. 'I am only repeating what I heard in the marketplace. Please...'  
  
'Peace,' said the King, and motioned the merchants to return to their seats.  
  
'Our problem is, we have a ruler who is growing and consolidating his strength, and as a hobby he has taken hostages from amongst my subjects. Our task is to convince him to leave off conquest, and give us back the hobbits in the bargain.'  
  
'In any event, we must get the hobbits back,' Legolas whispered to Gimli, who grunted in return.  
  
'I am informed,' Elessar said, with another glance at the merchants, 'that these people will respect a show of force. They are more likely to seek to achieve their ends by subtlety and stealth, than to clash on a battlefield. I propose to march this army down the Harad Road to Haragost, to beard this Lion in his den... demand the release of slaves, the restoration of territories to their traditional ruling families, and the return of our people to us.'  
  
'You do not anticipate battle, then?' Eomer said. He sounded disappointed.  
  
'No, but it is good to go prepared for any eventuality,' the King replied.  
  
'We can always hope,' Eomer muttered to his First Marshal, who nodded, and Gimli, standing nearby, snorted in agreement.  
  
***  
  
When Celandine awakened, it was again to darkness, but the motion was different. She realised, somehow, that they were in the hold of a much bigger ship, and bigger waves were rocking them than she'd ever felt on the River. They were on the Sea! ...being taken who knows where, but in any event, they were very far from home, now, and unlikely ever to see the Shire again. She allowed herself to weep a little weep, as the children were still evidently asleep--she had found all of them by touch before letting herself relax any--but as she felt the first one stir, she wiped her eyes and spoke briskly.  
  
'Well! We are having quite an adventure!' she said.  
  
'Mum?' Meadowsweet said questioningly.  
  
'It's all right, lass,' Celandine said. 'We must keep up our spirits, now, if we're ever to find our way home again.'  
  
'Are we, Mum?' Berilas asked.  
  
'Of course!' Celandine said. 'Do you think your father, and Uncle Doderic, and Uncle Ilberic, not to mention the Master and all the rest of the Brandybucks, will rest until they have us safely back in Buckland?'  
  
She kept them hopeful with such talk, though a squeeze from Alyssium's hand told her that at least one of her tweens wasn't fooled. She squeezed back, and Alyssium began to tell how the Brandybucks would likely jump into every boat in Buckland just to follow them and bring them back. She soon had the children laughing at the imagined sight of an old farmer in his leaky rowboat joining the flotilla, having one son to row and another to bail...  
  
Again, they could not keep track of time. She suspected that meals were irregular, and the only light they saw was the lantern that was brought with their food. They were allowed to eat and take care of their needs by its light, before the guard would take it away again. They received no answer to their queries. Celandine wondered if the guard were deaf or merely stupid.  
  
At last, the feeling of motion eased; they no longer rolled upon great waves. Had they entered a harbour, perhaps?  
  
In any event, a number of Men came into their hold with large baskets, and indicated that the hobbits should climb in. When Celandine hesitated, one of the Men pinched little Poppy hard enough to make her cry, and made a menacing gesture towards Berilas... She could not let them harm the children, and so, she climbed into the indicated basket, holding tightly to tiny Blossom, still wrapped securely in the shawl, and watched the lid descend. Poking at it cautiously, she found it fastened down. Then the basket was lifted, and carried. She listened, hearing strange noises, shouting, music, clanging sounds, much jabbering in a language she could not understand.  
  
She called out to her children, and was encouraged to hear them answer, as they were carried along.  
  
It was much hotter than the Shire that they'd left, making her guess that they were off South somewhere. Strange smells wafted by her, some savoury, like roasting meat, and others that sickened her in their strangeness. She had the feeling they were passing through a bustling marketplace, but then things grew quieter. Gates clanged, they were carried through a place that smelt of flowers, where birds sang, and then there were more clanging gates.  
  
Someone barked an order, and her basket was laid down, the top lifted off, and she emerged, blinking, into an ornate room where a Man sat before her on a throne. A murmur of wonder swept the room as she was lifted out of the basket and placed on the floor with her children, who huddled close. The people were all dark-skinned, she noted, dark-haired, and dark-eyed, dressed in brightly coloured clothing, with gold bracelets at wrist and ankle, golden earrings, golden chains about their necks. Their eyes were wide at the sight of the hobbits who stared back with wide eyes of their own.  
  
A servant came forward with a glass bottle and pressed a little bulb, to spray sweet-smelling perfume over the hobbits. Celandine made a wry face; she guessed that they didn't smell very attractive to these fancy Big Folk, not after all those days in the dark, with no way to wash, and no change of clothes.  
  
A Man stepped forward, and she recognised him as the one who had pinched Poppy to get the hobbits to climb into the baskets without a struggle. He was the ship's captain, though she had no way of knowing that.  
  
'Your Highness, I bring you the new creatures you desired for your collection,' the captain of the ship said. He poked the seller, who bowed and gestured towards the little huddle of hobbits before the throne. Celandine gasped as she recognised the seller as one of the ruffians who'd taken them captive.  
  
The captain and the Prince spoke in a language she did not know, though she listened as hard as she could.  
  
The Prince got down from the throne to walk around the creatures, ooing and aahing. 'Exquisite,' he said, rubbing his hands together. The captain and the seller exchanged satisfied glances. 'Absolutely charming,' the Prince added. 'They look quite like little _people_, don't they? What lovely creatures.'  
  
'You will find they are quite trainable,' the captain said. 'With patience you can make them understand what you want of them.'  
  
'I am well pleased!' beamed the Prince. 'Yes, very well pleased, indeed! These will make my collection the envy of all my neighbors! No one else has these creatures; I am the first to obtain them.' He clapped his hands, and a servant came forward. 'Weigh the creatures,' he said. 'As per our agreement, their seller is to be paid their weight in gold.'  
  
The guards warily prodded the little things onto the scales, one by one, and when the weighing was done, quite a pile of gold resulted, to be quickly packed into sturdy sacks. The seller bowed low to the Prince, thanking him for his generosity, and gestured to his companions to take the gold. They staggered cheerfully under the weight of their burden as they left the throne room.  
  
'My, look at that! They have clothing!' Jessamin, who had been assigned the task of the care and feeding of the new creatures, said to her sister.  
  
'I have seen monkeys clad like humans. It adds to their charm, I suppose,' Bessime answered.  
  
'Yes, but these little creatures look so... human, somehow. Very engaging. One would almost think they could break into speech,' one of the courtiers remarked.  
  
'Ah, but their jabbering makes no sense whatsoever,' the guard said in a bored tone. 'Believe me, they chattered all the way here from the ship, calling from basket to basket, and if there were words in it, I certainly didn't find any.'  
  
'They are filthy!' Jessamin murmured to her sister. 'Do you suppose they know how to bathe?'  
  
'We'll have to teach them,' Bessime answered. 'All the animals in the collection must be well-groomed, after all, by the order of the Prince.' With smiles and gestures and some prodding from the guards, they were able to lead the little creatures from the throne room, down long corridors, to one of the bathing rooms, where they hit their first snag.  
  
The little creatures would not allow themselves to be disrobed; the littlest ones wailing in a most distressed manner, while the biggest one glared fiercely.  
  
Finally by dint of much patient coaxing, they were able to remove the creatures' coverings, though the one held tight to the shawl and seemed so distressed that they relented and allowed her to retain it.   
  
'There,' Jessamin said in relief. 'I do hope that they will not be this difficult in every way.'  
  
They led the little creatures from the dressing room into the bathing room, and Jessamin motioned two of the girls into the tub, to be ready to catch the little ones.  
  
***  
  
The hobbits caught their breath as the door opened to a room containing a large steaming pool. 'They're going to drown us!' Alyssium whimpered.  
  
'Nonsense,' Celandine said, though it had been her first thought as well. They'd all heard of the ruffians' trick of holding hobbits underwater, in order to gain information, or just for sport. The game had gone too far in one instance, and a Shirriff had died. These must be the latter kind of ruffians, for with no common language they could hardly be seeking information.  
  
There was only one thing to be done.  
  
'I'll go first,' Celandine said. She pressed the shawl with the sleeping babe into Alyssium's arms. 'Take care of her,' she said, her voice breaking, 'for as long as you can.'  
  
'I will, Mum,' Alyssium sobbed, and Celandine hugged her gently. With a last brave smile for her children, she turned, her face losing its smile as soon as her back was turned. Expression bleak now, she walked towards the beckoning Big Folk, down one step, then another, and then the water closed over her head and she waited to drown.  
  
...only to be lifted out of the water by a laughing servant girl, who poured some sweet-smelling stuff onto her curls and began to rub until her head was covered with lather.  
  
'It's a bath!' Mayblossom squealed, and the other children laughed through their tears. 'It's only a bath, after all!'  
  
One by one, they coaxed the little creatures into the tub and began to lather them with perfumed soap, washing away sweat and grit and dust. Only the one holding the shawl hung back, resisting, and as Jessamin pulled at the shawl once again, the biggest of the creatures pushed herself away from the servants, actually swam to the edge of the tub! ...hauled herself out, and ran dripping to embrace the remaining little one, shawl and all.  
  
'Come now,' Jessamin coaxed. 'Let us get rid of this dirty old shawl... look at you, you were all clean and now you're streaked with dust again!' She tried again, gently, to pull the shawl out from between the creatures, but they only grasped all the harder.  
  
Suddenly, Jessamin dropped the shawl as it began to move and mewl.  
  
'What is it?' Bessime gasped.  
  
'I don't know,' Jessamin said, backing away. Once she was out of reach, the wet creature hugged the shawl to her, dust streaking her wet skin, and carefully unwrapped it to reveal... the tiniest infant the serving girls had ever seen.  
  
A chorus of ooohs and ahhhs broke out. 'Isn't it the most adorable thing?' one of the girls gasped.  
  
'Hush!' Jessamin warned. 'Can you not see you are frightening the creatures half to death?' Indeed the little mother was grasping the infant tightly to itself, while the other little one began to sob in fear and confusion.  
  
Some instinct prompted Jessamin to kneel, to be on a level with the little creature. She held out a tentative hand, saying softly, 'It's all right, Little One, we won't hurt you or your babe.' Turning her head slightly, she whispered, 'Give me a wet cloth.' One was quickly pressed into her hand, and she extended it to the little mother. 'Here you are... your babe needs a wash as well, I'd say.'  
  
The little mother snatched the cloth from her hands, then bit her lip and said something.  
  
'It is almost as if she said thank you!' Bessime commented, charmed.  
  
'They seem quite intelligent for animals,' Jessamin agreed. The little mother had begun washing the tiny babe, removing the filthy covering on the babe's bottom, gently washing the reddened skin, then holding the naked infant close, watching the Big Folk warily while the other little one pressed close.  
  
The little mother then said something to the other, and reluctantly, she crept to the pool, allowing herself to be lifted in, and washed.  
  
'They appear to be housebroken,' Bessime said wryly, 'all but the babe, it seems.'  
  
'Well, the mother seems to have been trained to care for it,' Jessamin answered. 'We shall provide her with what she needs, and see what she does. If she cannot care for it properly, of course it will have to be taken away.'  
  
'I'd like to see you try,' Bessime said, raising a sceptical eyebrow, but she obediently extended a dry flannel to the little mother, who wrapped it about her infant. It was just about the right size to be a towel for the little thing.  
  
'Very well,' Jessamin said. 'Now let us see if the clothing we had made ready for these little creatures will suit, for there is not much time before we must present the creatures before the court...' She smiled at the little mother, which still watched her warily, and crooked a coaxing finger. 'Come along, little creature, come along, little one...'


	16. What Shall I Make of Thee?

Note to Readers:   
  
I am going on vacation for a week, and while I have written well ahead in both "Merlin" and "Flames", I might not be able to post daily again until after next weekend (say, the 7th of July). However, if I am able to sneak online at all, I will keep posting chapters... Hey, you all keep reviewing, okay? Wouldn't want you to get out of the habit... Those lovely reviews, they keep the Muse happy, along with her pina coladas, and she keeps throwing ideas at me, so it works out for everyone.  
  
I have added a new chapter to "Flames" as well, in case you are following that story.  
  
***  
  
**16. What Shall I Make of Thee?**  
  
Reginard chafed at the slow recovery, but Pippin and Ferdi kept reminding him how different things might have been. He remained on broth for another three days, per Healer Verbena's orders, despite bitter protests that he might well die of starvation before dying of his wounds.  
  
When Verbena was satisfied, looking at the progress of healing his external wounds, she allowed soft foods, watching closely for any adverse reactions.  
  
Regi continued to sleep much of the time, and when Pippin was not with him, Ferdi was, to make sure he did not try to get up too soon. Verbena kept him in bed a full two weeks, though he tried to convince Pippin that he could travel by waggon to the Smials, or barring that, could remain in Greenholm under the care of the good hobbits there whilst the Thain returned to the Smials. Pippin, however, stubbornly refused to leave, instead having messengers travel back and forth between Great Smials and Greenholm. It made minding his business a bit more awkward, perhaps, but he made it work.  
  
No more ruffians attacked Greenholm. There were reports of other attempts by ruffians to enter the Shire elsewhere, but the vigilant guardsmen, Shirriffs, and their quickly deputised helpers turned back the intruders at a great loss to the ruffians, and no serious loss to the defenders.  
  
Elanor and Rosie-lass slept each night under the influence of a sleeping draught, because of the terrors that stalked their dreams. They spent their days underground, deep in the smials under the Far Downs, while guards patrolled outside.   
  
Leotred voiced his concern to Healer Verbena after about a week. 'The lasses still are not sleeping properly, and they grow pale from lack of acquaintance with the sun.'  
  
'What do you expect me to do?' Verbena said. 'They were taken from the front garden of the smials... they fear to venture out, and I won't force them.' She eyed him sternly, shaking a finger at him. 'And you're not a healer yet, for all you are my most promising apprentice.'  
  
'I'd like to take them on a picnic, up on the moorland,' Leotred pressed. 'The weather continues warm and sunny, for November, and the border is well-enough guarded now... and of course we would go in broad daylight.'  
  
'Those other hobbits were taken in broad daylight,' Verbena said darkly.  
  
'So... we'll take guardsmen with us,' Leotred said in frustration, only to shake his head. 'No, we cannot do that. How about Fastred and myself, Mayor Sam, Frodo, and Chancellor Ferdibrand, all armed with bows and alert for trouble? Would that satisfy you?'  
  
'A veritable army,' the healer said dryly, then sighed. 'You're right, they need sunshine.' Abruptly she nodded. 'I will take it up with the Mayor and his wife.'  
  
'Thank you,' Leotred said.  
  
***  
  
Gimli alternated between marching with his dwarves and riding behind Legolas and his elves from Ithilien, "like old times", he said, torn between satisfaction and irritation.  
  
The great army stretched behind them, a long snake upon the Harad road. Messengers had been sent ahead, to the petty kings whose lands they would cross as well as the king with whom they had business, and though villagers and groups of blank-faced soldiers lined the road as they passed, they went unmolested through the land.  
  
'Are they going to attack us or join us?' Gimli rumbled to his companion as they passed one such gathering.  
  
'They'll watch, and count our strength, and decide that they would rather not go to war with Gondor... this year at least,' Legolas answered.  
  
'Just so long as they do not begin collecting hobbits as pets,' the dwarf returned.  
  
***  
  
'But they're dressing me like a _girl_!' Berilas said in dismay, blushing as he looked down at the bright silken tunic.  
  
'Look at the guards,' Meadowsweet whispered. 'They're wearing the same thing you are.'  
  
Both peeped shyly at the fierce-looking warriors guarding them, curved scimitars hanging from their belts.  
  
'_That's_ what's missing!' Berilas shouted, stooping to the piles of bright silk, digging until he came up with a miniscule sash, which he wound about himself and tied firmly, nodding in satisfaction.  
  
Bessime tittered behind her hand. 'Look at the clever little monkey,' she whispered to Jessamin. 'He looks the perfect picture of a guard, now.'  
  
'All he needs is a sa'shan,' Jessamin whispered back, and stooping to the silks, herself, she found the little headcovering that had been made in hopes a male creature would be captured. 'Come here, little monkey,' she smiled, crooking a finger at Berilas.  
  
He'd learned what the phrase meant, and that this Big Person usually had a treat for him when he came, and so Berilas, with a glance to his mother for permission, stepped forward confidently. Jessamin knelt and quickly had the headdress in place, adjusting it to her satisfaction.   
  
One of the guards had to hide a smile, seeing the little creature turned into a guard. 'All he lacks is a weapon and a dark hide,' he quipped. 'Weapon, we can do nothing about, but perhaps if we put him out in the sun his hide can be darkened.'  
  
'It is a thought; their skin looks much like ours, and might darken in the sun at that,' Jessamin mused, leaning back to survey the effect. 'O, you are so cute!' she said, and could not resist pulling the little one into her lap for a hug.  
  
'They are entrancing creatures,' the other guard said. 'I can see why the Prince wished to add them to his collection.'  
  
The girls had put on their bright silks with murmurs of delight, the bright colours attractive to their hobbit sensibilities. The silks were cool and smooth to their touch.  
  
'Not very sensible, for Shire weather,' Celandine said, 'but I can see how it would suit in this climate.' The marble walls and floor were cool, but the air was definitely warm, and she imagined that out under the open sun would be like an oven. Slaves with fans kept the air moving, trickling water made a cooling sound, and green plants waved everywhere.  
  
The Big Folk were talking again, and she concentrated on the unintelligible sounds. A few words were coming clear, now: "monkey" was what they often called the hobbits; "come here" was a summons; "stop", a warning. Now she heard the word that they used to refer to herself...  
  
'Little mother!' Jessamin said, smiling at Celandine. She held out a tiny gown, borrowed from a young friend's collection of doll clothes. 'Here is something for the babe to wear.' Jessamin admired the unconscious grace as the hobbit mum stepped cautiously towards her, fingered the gown, and carefully took it from her grasp. 'Good little monkey!' she praised, and Celandine smiled absently as she dressed little Blossom, recognising the phrase the Big People used when pleased with the hobbits.  
  
'Let me take a look at you!' she said, and surveyed the little group. 'Perfect!' she said.   
  
A gong sounded somewhere, and one of the guards said, 'And not a moment too soon. It is time to take the creatures to court, for the King's approval.'


	17. I Had Much Sorrow

Note to Readers:   
  
I am on vacation for a week, and while I have written well ahead in both "Merlin" and "Flames", I might not be able to post daily again until after next weekend (say, the 7th of July). However, if I am able to sneak online at all, I will keep posting chapters... Hey, you all keep reviewing, okay? Wouldn't want you to get out of the habit... Those lovely reviews, they keep the Muse happy, along with her pina coladas, and she keeps throwing ideas at me, so it works out for everyone.  
  
I have added a new chapter to "Flames" as well, in case you are following that story.  
  
***  
  
**17. I Had Much Sorrow**  
  
'A picnic?' Elanor said, torn between horror and delight. To see the sun again... to be out in the open... She shuddered ..._in the open_.  
  
Fastred took her hand between his two and said persuasively, 'Out upon the open moor, well away from the border, your sister, your brother, your mum and dad and a dozen farmers to protect you, if need be.'  
  
'Or perhaps one chancellor would do?' Ferdibrand drawled from where he leant against the doorframe. Now pushing himself upright, he entered the room to take Elanor's other hand, looking at Fastred from under knitted brows until the other belatedly released her hand from between his, remembering how much more formal hobbits were in the longer-settled parts of the Shire.  
  
Ferdi nodded in satisfaction, then turned to Elanor. 'Nell,' he said, 'You cannot hide away here forever, you've got to go outside sometime. Where'd my lass go, the one who wanted to see "the whole world and then some"?'  
  
Elanor didn't answer, but looked at the floor and bit her lip. Ferdi put a gentle finger beneath her chin and tilted her face up until her eyes met his. 'Hiding doesn't help matters,' he said. 'Believe me, I know all about it.'  
  
'You, hide?' Fastred said incredulously.  
  
'O aye,' the chancellor said. He flexed his bow arm carefully. 'There was a long time I could not shoot, after a ruffian's club nearly finished me off, and so I hid myself away, for all the good it did... none at all, I can tell you.' He released Elanor's chin, but still addressed her. 'Hobbits weren't meant to live underground, for all they might sleep there.'  
  
'All right,' Elanor said softly, 'if you can get Rosie to agree to go.' She felt fairly sure there would be no picnic.  
  
***  
  
'We have permission to camp by the roadside,' the messenger said to Elessar and his captains as the army crossed into yet another small fiefdom. 'The lord asks only that we do not forage. I told him that we brought our own supplies with us, and he was satisfied.'  
  
'Very well,' Elessar replied. 'Pass the word that we will make camp here.'  
  
The word was quickly passed down the line, the soldiers fell out and busied themselves with all the necessary tasks of an overnight rest. Guards were posted, while the rest laid out bedrolls and sat down upon them to eat of their travel bread, dried meat and fruit, and water from their bottles.  
  
Brightly clad villagers came out with wares to hawk: silks, knives, dates, figs, curiosities carved from a fragrant wood. A few soldiers traded coins for goods, but for the most part, the villagers went home again as heavy-laden as they'd come. After all, the army would travel back this way. Time enough to buy something then, and not have to carry it to Haragost and back.  
  
Gimli fingered a length of silk and then sent the hopeful villager away with a scowl.  
  
'Not to your liking?' Legolas asked.  
  
'Far too bright,' Gimli said. 'Suitable for a lass, perhaps. My tastes do not run quite that fancy.'  
  
Legolas laughed. 'The light, bright colours keep the people here cool,' he said.  
  
Gimli snorted. 'For the life of me, I cannot understand how anyone would settle here in this hot, dry country,' he said. 'It is not even a place I would visit, were I given a choice in the matter.'  
  
'The hobbits were given no choice, either,' Legolas said quietly. He extended his flask to the dwarf, and the other lifted it morosely to his lips, lowering it with raised brows.  
  
'You call this water?' Gimli grunted.  
  
'I call it "wine",' Legolas returned. 'Perhaps it is a novelty to your taste?'  
  
'I know what wine is,' Gimli muttered indignantly. 'What I want to know, is what it's doing in your water bottle?'  
  
'This is not my water bottle,' Legolas returned calmly. 'My water bottle is attached to my saddle pad.'  
  
'I suppose you have some kind of fancy food to go along with it,' Gimli said, eyeing his cram with a jaded eye.  
  
'Only lembas,' Legolas said. 'But you're welcome to share my meal.'  
  
'Lembas,' Gimli sighed, shaking his head, but reached out to take the leaf-wrapped wafer. 'It is not a feast, but I'll help you dispose of it.' Unwrapping the travel-cake, he broke off a piece and munched in silence. The taste took him back in memory to another time, another journey, and he and the elf did not speak again until the horn sounded for the army to seek its rest.  
  
'Not so bad as I remembered,' Gimli said. 'If you have more lembas than you can manage, I might be able to help you out along the way.'  
  
'Many thanks for your generous offer, old friend,' Legolas said seriously. Around them was the sound of soldiers settling to their bedrolls, weapons being unsheathed and laid close to hand, and then silence fell, broken only by the occasional crunch of a guard's boot on a stone. Gimli rose after a final sip of the elf's wine, and Legolas said, 'Sleep well.'  
  
Gimli grunted and stalked away, to rejoin his party of dwarves.  
  
***  
  
Jessamin, her sister, and the two guards herded the hobbits back to the throne room. Celandine recognised the route; as a Brandybuck who'd gone upon occasion into the Old Forest, she'd developed a sure sense of direction and a memory for a path taken. She remembered the large crowd of Big Folk, their curious eyes, the Man on the throne.  
  
'We need to somehow show them that we are not property,' she said to Alyssium, 'not slaves to be bought and sold, no matter how much gold changes hands, but a free People.'  
  
'But how?' the tween whispered back. 'How do we make them understand when we do not know their words, and they do not know ours?'  
  
'Watch and wait,' Celandine said. 'The opportunity will surely present itself, if not now, then later.' She raised her voice slightly, to gain the attention of all the children. 'I want you to be on your best behaviour,' she said clearly. 'After all, we are guests, of a sort...'  
  
'Listen to the mother hen clucking away at her chicks,' Bessime said with a smile. 'Do you suppose she's telling them to be on their best manners for the king?'  
  
'I'm hungry,' little Poppy said. There had been trays of strange fruit and goat's cheese and flat, chewy bread in the room where they dressed, and the Big Folk had allowed them to eat while being robed and brushed and perfumed and draped with golden bangles and necklaces. The clothes might be cool and comfortable, and bright and colourful, but they were sadly lacking in pockets where one might hide away a snack for later nibbling.  
  
'I'm sorry, love, I don't have anything for you,' Celandine said, shifting the babe in the sling she had fashioned from a length of silk. 'But they have been feeding us regular meals, so there's a good chance for another meal, I'd say.'  
  
They reached the throne room, to see again the crowd of courtiers, thicker than before. The young Man who'd been on the throne when they came now stood beside the dais, talking to another who occupied the royal seat, dark, handsome, powerfully built, much hung about with gold... but his eyes, turning to the hobbits were cruel and cold, and the children shrank against Celandine with fearful gasps.  
  
The hobbit mum forced herself to stand straight and speak calmly. 'Now then, children, where are your manners? This Man is evidently their ruler, so mind your manners.' She made a deep courtesy, followed by her girls, while little Berilas made a creditable bow.  
  
A titter ran around the room, and the cruel man smiled. 'Your animals have already been taught some manners, I see,' he said to his son. 'Charming creatures. I do believe they are a fine addition to your collection.'  
  
'Thank you, Father,' the prince said eagerly.  
  
The king arose from his throne and walked a compass around the hobbits, eyeing them from all angles, while Celandine kept a wary eye on him.  
  
'A mother and her kits, I presume,' he said jovially.  
  
Jessamin bowed low. 'Yes, Sire,' she said in her most respectful tone. 'It seems the young of this species stay with the mother a long time, even after weaning.'  
  
'Charming,' the king said again, reaching out a gentle finger to stroke Alyssium's cheek, though his smile did not reach his cold, hard eyes. 'Almost like little _people_... a pity, really, that they are merely animals.'  
  
'Yes, Sire,' Jessamin said, keeping her eyes down.  
  
'Very well, Son, you may keep them,' the king said to his son. 'We shall...'  
  
A disturbance at the entrance to the throne room caused him to break off, eyes narrowing. A guard strode quickly forward, to throw himself down before the king.  
  
'Yes, what is it?' the Lion snapped.  
  
The guard arose cautiously, saying, 'A messenger has arrived from the so-called king of Gondor, Sire.' He extended a paper to his ruler.  
  
The Lion took it, looked at it impatiently, called sharply for the interpreter, who came forward to take the paper with a deep bow.  
  
'To the king of Haragost, greetings,' he read.  
  
'Get to the meat; do not read me all the fancies and flourishes,' the Lion growled.  
  
The interpreter rapidly scanned the page, then said, 'He takes exception to slavery and expanding the borders, and he says we have in our possession subjects belonging to him.'  
  
'Subjects?' the king asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
'Pheriannath,' the interpreter said. 'I do not know the meaning of the word.'  
  
Jessamin saw Celandine start when "Pheriannath" was mentioned, but the little creature obviously did not follow the rest of the conversation. She wondered where it had heard the word before.  
  
'The so-called king of Gondor wishes to meet with you, to discuss these issues,' the interpreter concluded.  
  
'Is his messenger still here, then, waiting to take back my reply?' the Lion asked mildly.  
  
'Yes, Sire,' the guard said. 'He waits outside, being not of the Law.'  
  
'Bring him in,' the king said in a bored tone. 'I will give him my answer in person.' The guards lining both sides of the throne room stiffened at this, and seeing their reaction, Celandine held little Blossom more tightly. There was trouble afoot; she could smell it in the perfumed air.  
  
A tall Guardsman of Gondor marched into the throne room, escorted by two smiling guards. Jessamin heard several of the little creatures inhale sharply, seeing him, and looking down at her charges, she saw joyful recognition on their faces, rather than the fear she expected.  
  
'He's dressed like Bergil,' Berilas whispered, only to be hushed by his mother. Celandine was scared stiff, like a coney that has seen the shadow of the hawk pass over, she did not know why, but she stood stiff and unmoving, scarcely breathing.  
  
The Lion spoke to the interpreter, who in turn addressed the Guardsman. The hobbits understood the accented words of the interpreter, and the Guardsman's replies, and Jessamin watched her charges with increasing puzzlement as they echoed some of the words in soft whispers.  
  
'We have received the message you bore. We understand you were to wait for a reply?'  
  
The Guardsman bowed slightly in acknowledgement. 'Yes, Sir, that is correct.'  
  
At a nod from the Lion, half a dozen royal guards jumped forward to seize the Guardsman, and though he struggled they quickly had him disarmed and subdued.  
  
'What business is it, of your so-called king, if I choose to take on new land, or new slaves?' the Lion said mildly. 'I'm not bothering him any... and I've never heard the term "Pheriannath" before. What makes him think we have any of his subjects?'  
  
'I come under a flag of truce,' the Guardsman protested.  
  
'You should have laid your weapons aside at the door, then,' the king rebuked gently.  
  
Reluctantly, the Guardsman ducked his head. 'My apologies, Sovereign,' he said.  
  
'Apology accepted,' the king smiled. 'Now for my reply to your so-called king...'  
  
At his nod, the Guardsman was stripped of his surcoat, hauberk, tunic, and undertunic.  
  
'How pale your skin,' the king said through his interpreter. 'Like fine paper, to be writ upon...'  
  
'Don't look, children,' Celandine whispered, and at hearing his own tongue in the breathless silence of the throne room, the Guardsmen looked in their direction, but could not see them, their bright silks blending in with the press of courtiers.  
  
The Guardsman was thrown down upon a stone block that stood in the middle of the throne room, his arms firmly held, while a whip was applied to the king's satisfaction.  
  
Celandine forced herself to watch, though she turned the faces of her children away, hiding them in her skirts. At one point, the Guardsman's eyes met hers, widening at seeing a hobbit in that place, but he was by then beyond speech, and soon his eyes closed and he slumped, no longer resisting the guards who held him.  
  
'Enough,' the king said in a bored tone, raising a hand. 'I think we are done writing. Tie him to his horse and send him back home.'


	18. Bring the Hungry Man Thy Bread

Note to Readers:   
  
I am on vacation for a week, and while I have written well ahead in both "Merlin" and "Flames", I might not be able to post daily again until after next weekend (say, the 7th of July). However, if I am able to sneak online at all, I will keep posting chapters... Hey, you all keep reviewing, okay? Wouldn't want you to get out of the habit... Those lovely reviews, they keep the Muse happy, along with her pina coladas, and she keeps throwing ideas at me, so it works out for everyone.  
  
"The Law" as used in this story is not meant to resemble any modern system of belief. In other words, I made it up, after thinking about how a society of proud warriors not recognising the beliefs of Numenor might be ordered.  
  
Thank you for the comments! I am storing them away to look at on Monday, when I will commence writing again.  
  
Sunhawk, very kind words indeed. I am greatly encouraged. I must admit that the cliffhanger continues to hang... if I get a chance to post chapter 19 before Monday, you will see that it gets worse before it gets better... but Legolas and Gimli are on their way, you know, and that's something.  
  
Bookworm, the messenger *did* recognise the hobbits as halflings, he was just too far gone to say so. Lucky for the hobbits, as it turns out...  
  
Hai, glad to hear you can't wait for more. Nothing worse for someone in the middle of trying to resolve a cliffhanger than to look over and see the audience yawning... O, and Elessar is going to be unhappy about a few more things before this is all over. So are a few other people, but who am I to give away plot points?  
  
Aemilia Rose, yes, it makes me growl too, to think of hobbits treated as animals. The Haradrim are a very proud people, considering all who do not share their tongue and culture to be inferior. Hmmmm. Seems as if that sort of thinking is still going on today...  
  
LadyJea, have a soothing cup of tea, dear. The present suspense will continue a few more days, at least, to be replaced by future suspense, of course.  
  
Dana, when are the V! folk going to fix your phone? How can you preview stuff without a phone line? Hurry back soon!  
  
I have added a new chapter to "Flames" as well, in case you are following that story.  
  
***  
  
**18. Bring the Hungry Man Thy Bread**  
  
Elanor had felt fairly sure there would be no picnic, but she did not reckon with Leotred's power of persuasion over her sister.  
  
Mayor Samwise took a daughter under each arm, looking back and forth with a smile. 'Surely I am surrounded by the prettiest lasses in the Shire!' he said. 'What need do we have of wildflowers? I have my pick right here!'  
  
'Go on with you, now, Sam,' Rose scolded. 'The picnic's packed already, and we're keeping everyone waiting.'  
  
Quite a group of hobbits ascended the cleft in the Downs, for the half-a-dozen burly farmers had brought their own families along: the more the merrier, after all, was hobbit custom.  
  
Rosie-lass stumbled, unused to the exercise, but Leot came up beside her to offer a steadying arm, and she smiled at him in thanks. Frodo took her other arm with a stern look to Leot, but the other just laughed and said, 'You see, Miss Rose, between us we'll get you up the slope, yet!'  
  
Fastred was helping Elanor along, with Ferdi on her other side; as soon as they reached the top of the climb, a look from the chancellor caused him to turn loose her arm with a bow. 'There you are, Miss Elanor,' he said formally, for Ferdi's benefit.   
  
The chancellor dismissed him with a nod, tucking Elanor's hand more snugly within his arm. 'There we are indeed, Nell,' he smiled, and they walked out on top of the Downs a little before he turned her back to admire the view.  
  
'It is lovely,' Elanor said, gazing over the plain.  
  
'And not a ruffian in sight,' Ferdi said in satisfaction. Patting her hand, he turned her about. 'Let us go and gather garlands of flowers,' he said, then looking over his shoulder again, he added to Fastred, 'You may accompany us, lad.'  
  
'My thanks,' Fastred said dryly.  
  
'Not at all,' the chancellor said with dignity.  
  
They walked a little further before the hobbit mums decided to spread out the blankets and lay out the picnic. It was a pleasant autumn day, fleecy clouds drifting in the cerulean sky, flowers rioting upon the moorland. Hobbit children wandered under their parents' watchful eyes, gathering armfuls of blooms, or sitting down to braid these into crowns and necklaces, anklets and bracelets.  
  
The Thain took out his flute and began to pipe a cheery tune, and the garlanded hobbit children began to dance in the sunshine, until the mums called everyone to the feast.  
  
Fastred sat down not far from Elanor, filling her plate as often as she emptied it, to the chancellor's evident approval. Finally, she laughingly jerked her plate out of his grasp, declaring that if she ate another bite she would burst.  
  
'We cannot have that,' Fastred smiled. He took up a crown of flowers dropped by one of the children and placed it upon her head. 'There,' he said. 'Now you are dressed for the occasion. Even if you burst you will still be the prettiest lass on the moor.'  
  
Ferdi cleared his throat, and Elanor laughed again. 'O "Uncle" Ferdi,' she said, 'do stop growling at Fastred. You are the one who introduced us in the first place, as I recall.'  
  
'Just practicing,' Ferdi said. 'I must be ready when the opportunity presents itself. Besides, young Frodo asked me to keep an eye on this young scoundrel.'  
  
'That Frodo!' Elanor said, torn between amusement and exasperation. 'He's so busy making sure Leot does no more than hold Rosie's hand, I'm surprised he could spare me a thought.'  
  
'He is a good and conscientious brother,' Ferdi intoned solemnly.  
  
'Well, if Frodo allows Leot to hold Rosie's hand, then what's the harm...?' Fastred asked, holding out a palm. Elanor looked to Ferdi, and at his nod, put her hand into Fastred's. 'How about a little walk, to settle that fine meal?' he asked.  
  
'Don't go too far,' the chancellor said, settling back upon the blanket. 'I'm just going to close my eyes for a few minutes.' He yawned. 'Just pretend I am still keeping an eye on you.'  
  
'We shall!' Elanor chuckled, and hand in hand the two young hobbits walked slowly over the hill and down into a little depression filled with flowers. 'The children haven't discovered this patch, yet,' Elanor said.  
  
There was a sudden high-pitched "kee-kee-kee", and Fastred stopped, pulling Elanor to a stop beside him.  
  
'What is it?' she whispered.  
  
'Merlin,' he whispered back. 'They only cry when you disturb them near the nest. Keep still.' He sat down, and she settled beside him. The warm sun and heavy meal conspired to make her sleepy, and her head drooped, then rested against his shoulder whilst they sat amongst the blooms. He put an arm about her to steady her, and sat very quiet as she drowsed, only to feel her jerk awake with a soft cry.  
  
'It's all right,' he soothed. 'There's nothing here to hurt you.' She gazed up at him with sleep-blurred eyes, and he was prompted to drop a kiss upon her forehead, to be knocked sprawling a moment later by a furious brother.  
  
'What do you think you're doing?' Frodo demanded, while Elanor blinked in astonishment at this rude awakening.  
  
'Your sister was taking a bit of a nap, and I was watching over her,' Fastred said calmly enough, though it took an effort.  
  
'Looked as if someone needed to be watching over _you_,' Frodo said rudely, and Elanor broke in with, 'That's enough, Fro, he did no harm.'  
  
'He was taking advantage of you in your sleep,' Frodo raged.  
  
'I was having a nightmare, and he was comforting me,' Elanor shot back. 'No more, Frodo, you're going to cause a scene and embarrass me no end.'  
  
'All right,' Frodo said, putting down a hand to help Elanor up from the ground. 'We'll speak no more of this.' He glared at Fastred. 'But you keep your paws off my sister after this, you hear?'  
  
'I'd have to be deaf, not to hear,' Fastred said, pretending a complacence he did not feel. Elanor smiled at him over her shoulder as Frodo led her away, and he could almost hear her saying, _Little brothers!_ Fastred chuckled. He had been just as protective of his big sisters. It was a wonder they'd ever married at all...  
  
***  
  
'How is he?' Elessar asked grimly as the healers bent over the body of the unconscious messenger, the hastily erected tent shading him from the fierce rays of the sun.  
  
'The beating was skillfully applied,' the chief surgeon said absently, straightening up from the body, his eyes still on the work of his assistants. 'His life is not in danger; there are no internal injuries despite the severity of the visible injuries. He'll have to sleep on his face for quite awhile, and the scars will remain to the end of his days.'  
  
'When will he waken?' Elessar asked.  
  
'You wish to ask of him his message?' Imrahil said grimly. 'I'd say it is clear... the Lion is telling you in no uncertain terms to keep your nose out of his business.'  
  
'Pheriannath,' the Guardsman moaned then, and the others stiffened.  
  
The King bent closer. 'Halflings?' he asked urgently. 'Did you see them?' There was no answer.  
  
'Let us finish dressing the wounds,' the chief surgeon said, 'then we will try to rouse him.'  
  
'Very well,' Elessar said. He turned to Imrahil. 'Give orders for the army to take a meal,' he said. 'We'll move on in an hour.' Imrahil nodded.  
  
***  
  
The little creatures were very upset, Jessamin could see. Though they had never before refused food, even plucking at her skirts to beg at times, asking like little parrots for dates or bread or figs, now they sat, eyes wide, staring at the guards in fear. Even the littlest ones, not counting the babe, pushed away the plate of tempting delicacies and hid their faces in the little mother's skirts.  
  
'Perhaps they have never seen a beating before,' Bessime said. 'They may have lived very sheltered lives, before coming here.'  
  
'Perhaps,' Jessamin said with a frown. 'But they need to eat! Up until now they have eaten every few hours, like the little birds in the prince's collection...' she held out a plate of dates drizzled with honey and made a coaxing sound. The little creatures shrank away from her, and she gave up in frustration.  
  
'Leave the plate,' Bessime said. 'Come over here and have your own dinner.' She beckoned to the two guards to join them. 'There's plenty of food here, and I do not think the creatures are about to disappear, so sit down.' Studiously ignoring the hobbits, the Big Folk lowered themselves to the floor cushions around the low table and began to eat, talking quietly amongst themselves.  
  
Celandine listened desperately, trying to catch the meaning in what they said. Several days in the constant company of these folk was making their tongue more familiar... she was picking up more words, more meanings, even though their talk was a puzzle with many pieces yet to be discovered. She could not begin to speak with them, of course, but understanding was a start. She thought she might possibly have gathered enough words to be telling her keepers soon that they were not animals, but people. She wanted to be surer, though, and so she listened with all her being to their talk, even as she urged her children to eat, now that they were no longer under the Big Folks' scrutiny.  
  
Now she caught one of the guards, the one with cruel eyes, as she thought of him, gazing at her Alyssium once again with predatory eyes.  
  
'It is a pity,' he sighed, 'that these little ones are animals, and so forbidden under the Law. That light-haired one, there, so sweet and slender...' He licked his lips, then wolfed down some bread spread with spiced mashed legumes.  
  
' "Look not with lust",' the other guard quoted from the Law. 'Even if they were people, that one is little more than a child. How can you think of such a thing, Ha'asad?'  
  
'Very easily, Ha'aran,' the cruel-eyed guard said. 'She is a delight to the eye, how much more to the hand?'  
  
'Keep your hands to yourself,' Jessamin said warningly. 'The prince would not be pleased to hear such talk.' The cruel-eyed guard subsided, grumbling.   
  
For good measure, Bessime added, 'And under the Law, you must keep your hands off animals. If they were slaves, of course...'  
  
'If they were slaves, they wouldn't be in the prince's collection...' Ha'asad said. 'If for some reason he found they were not animals, but merely people, more slaves, he might be disgusted enough to sell the whole group of them at a bargain. Slaves are going cheap in the marketplace at the moment.' He became thoughtful. 'The coursers are growing stale...'  
  
'What do you mean?' Jessamin demanded in alarm.  
  
'It is time for another training run,' Ha'asad said. 'I was just going down to the marketplace to pick up a few slaves.' He smiled in anticipation.  
  
Jessamin pushed her plate away, feeling sick. 'I do not see why...' she began.  
  
'You know the Law forbids the abuse of animals,' Ha'asad said self-righteously. 'They are placed in our care, and so we are obligated to care for them conscientiously. Slaves on the other hand, are people, and must look after themselves...'  
  
'Yes, but...'  
  
'Honestly, I am doing them a favour,' Ha'asad went on. 'Giving them a quick death, instead of them having to work themselves to death over the span of a few months in a dark, stuffy, dangerous mine.'  
  
He stretched lazily. 'Just loose them on the plain, tell them the longer they run, the longer they live, give them a good head start, and then loose the dogs.'  
  
Celandine forgot to breathe. She did not know if she was following the conversation correctly. She certainly hoped not.  
  
'Take wagers on the outcome... which slave will be caught first, which will last the longest, which will run the fastest... the dogs get a good run, and a good meal at the end, and I make a nice little bit of pocket change on the wagering.' He eyed the hobbits. 'These little ones, they would make for an exciting race, I think.'  
  
Bessime gasped, and he grinned. 'O, I might handicap things, make them last a bit longer. Hobble the dogs, perhaps... tie their hind legs together to slow them up a bit.'  
  
'Wouldn't that be cruelty to animals?' Jessamin asked acidly.  
  
'O no, the dogs would still have their meal in the end,' the guard said. 'Even hobbled, they run fairly well.' He eyed the hobbits. 'Exciting, very exciting. Would they all run, each seeking its own safety, and the littlest be caught first? ...or would the bigger ones shield the little ones, turn to face the dogs to try to give the small ones a chance to get away?' He rubbed his hands together. 'I could make a lot of money, taking bets. It is enough to make one wish that the king would find these are those "Pheriannath" that messenger from Gondor mentioned.'  
  
He grinned at Bessime's gasp. Even Ha'aran, the other guard, was looking slightly ill.  
  
'If the prince found that they were people after all...' Ha'asad repeated. 'He might even sell them all to me, not just that sweet little one.' He smiled, and took a handful of dates. 'And then I could do whatever I wanted, with my own property, of course... I do not know if I would let her go to the dogs with the rest, or keep her...'  
  
'And just how long did your last slave survive?' Ha'aran said in disgust. 'The Law ought to have a provision against people like you.'  
  
'The Law is merciful to the chosen,' Ha'asad said smugly. 'Since slaves are not among the chosen, they are in no need of mercy, now, are they?' He took another bite, and said through a mouthful of food. 'And what business is it of yours, how I use my own property? The king pays his guards generously enough, I can always buy another slave when the latest one is used up.'  
  
Celandine sat very still, mind reeling with shock. She was not sure she had understood correctly, but seeing the cruel-eyed one looking again at her oldest daughter, she caught her breath. As long as they were thought of as _animals_, Alyssium was safe, but as captured _people_--slaves--she was evidently allowable prey for this predator. And if she could believe the whole of the conversation, Alyssium was not the only one at risk. They were all in grave danger of providing exercise and a meal for a pack of savage dogs.  
  
She decided she would not reveal their true nature to their captors after all. At least, not yet.


	19. There Ripens a Dreadful Ending for You

Note to Readers:   
  
I am on vacation for a week, and while I have written well ahead in both "Merlin" and "Flames", I might not be able to post daily again until after next weekend (say, the 7th of July). However, if I am able to sneak online at all, I will keep posting chapters... Hey, you all keep reviewing, okay? Wouldn't want you to get out of the habit... Those lovely reviews, they keep the Muse happy, along with her pina coladas, and she keeps throwing ideas at me, so it works out for everyone.  
  
"The Law" as used in this story is not meant to resemble any modern system of belief. In other words, I made it up, after thinking about how a society of proud warriors not recognising the beliefs of Numenor might be ordered.  
  
Thank you for the comments! I am storing them away to look at on Monday, when I will commence writing again.  
  
Though there are a few more chapters already written, and a whole outline stretching out before me, I do not know when (before Monday) I will be able to update again. So, we'll see you Monday, if not before. Sorry to leave you with such a cliffhanger. I do believe Ferdi's doing better over in "Flames", at the moment (we are in between outbursts of angst in that story), if you want more cheerful fare.  
  
I have added a new chapter to "Flames" as well, in case you are following that story.  
  
***  
  
**19. There Ripens a Dreadful Ending for You**  
  
Whenever Ferdibrand was with Elanor, Fastred was welcome to spend time with them, talking, eating, walking in the sunshine. There were other trips up on the moors, and Elanor and Rosie began to lose the pale, pinched look as their cheeks bloomed with colour once again. They regained their appetites, and they were beginning to sleep without the need for draughts.  
  
Reginard was up, though not quite well enough to be "about". He sat on a bench in the front garden of the smials in the autumn sunshine, and Rose or Elanor often joined him there, along with Fastred or Leotred.  
  
A message had come to the Thain from the King, that an army was marching down to the Sunlands, to try to regain the stolen hobbits.  
  
'An army?' Reginard said thoughtfully. 'That must be quite a sight.'  
  
'I just hope our people aren't trodden underfoot,' Pippin said seriously. He'd seen armies of Men before, after all, both of Gondor and of the Haradrim.  
  
'What is your cousin Celandine like?' Reginard asked.  
  
'Very resourceful, good head on her shoulders,' Pippin said. He chuckled. 'I remember one time...'  
  
'What?' Reginard said.  
  
'We were playing at "Bilbo and the Spiders" and wouldn't let her play... she got even with us, though.'  
  
'How?' Regi asked curiously.  
  
'Well, she tied the best knots of anyone we knew, so we asked her to tie up the dwarves, you know, like the spiders did...' Pippin shook his head.  
  
'And...?' Regi asked, when he paused.  
  
'She tied up all the lads but one, the one playing Bilbo, you know, with such hard knots that "Bilbo" couldn't get them loose again, and as the lads were all too young to have a knife between them, they stayed that way until well past teatime! Meanwhile, she went off to the Hall and sat, all prim and proper, at the tea table, and said "I don't know, they're all out playing somewhere" when asked where the lads had got to...' Pippin laughed and Regi chuckled cautiously.  
  
'You shouldn't make me laugh,' he reproached.  
  
Pippin was instantly solicitous. 'Are you all right?' he asked.  
  
Regi was quiet for a moment, as if listening to his body. 'I think so,' he said at last, then sighed. 'Ent draught isn't exactly a miracle, is it?'  
  
'O yes it is!' Pippin maintained stoutly. 'Without it, you wouldn't be sitting here now.'  
  
'Yes, but when can I be getting back to the Great Smials?' Regi fretted. 'That babe is due any day now.'  
  
'I should say the day you can laugh without discomfort is the day we can chance putting you into the coach,' Pippin said seriously. 'We wouldn't want to shake anything loose, after all.'  
  
'I suppose you're right,' Regi said. He closed his eyes and lifted his face to the afternoon sunshine, and soon was snoring lightly. The Thain watched him sleep for a time, then cautiously arose from the bench and went back to deal with the papers that had come from Tuckborough that morning.  
  
***  
  
King Elessar was meeting with his captains before beginning the day's march. 'We will reach the border of Haragost mid-morning,' he said, 'or at least, the border of the land the king of Haragost has annexed. I want you to pass the word to the troops. Caution, discipline: we shall not be the first to strike. A diplomatic solution may yet be possible.'  
  
Thinking of the wounded messenger, Imrahil shook his head, but said nothing when Elessar caught his eye with an inquiring look.  
  
'We know that the Halflings were seen at court,' Elessar continued. 'They are alive, and apparently being well-cared-for. We must go carefully, not antagonise the Lion into rash action.'  
  
'If we can find a way for him to save face,' Imrahil said, 'that would be the ideal. Honour and appearances are very important to these people.'  
  
'Yes,' Elessar nodded. 'I have advisors who are working on that.' They would suggest a course of action, appropriate words to be spoken when the army reached the lands of Haragost. 'We will be going very carefully, indeed.' ...if one could say that, of an army the size he was bringing. It was a bit hard to walk on eggs with several thousand mail-clad warriors following in your footsteps.  
  
***  
  
'Majesty,' the Lion's general said urgently. 'The situation is more urgent than we thought. That was not an isolated messenger, sent from Gondor, but the vanguard of a mighty army prepared for battle.'  
  
'A mighty army?' the Lion said softly. 'Do we have numbers?'  
  
'Thousands,' the general said soberly. 'All marching in good order and well-armed. They shall reach our borders sometime today.'  
  
'Well, we must prepare to greet our guests, then,' the Lion said genially. 'We shall prepare a feast for this so-called king and his captains, explain to them that they have no business in our land, and that we have not seen these "Pheriannath" they are looking for, but we will keep our eyes and ears open, and let them know should any word of their missing fellows be brought to our attention.'  
  
'Very good, Sire,' the general said, bowing.  
  
'It must be a very special feast,' the Lion continued. 'For this Gondorian is an extraordinary fellow, marched against the Dark Lord, I hear, though my father was wise enough to stay out of _that_ battle, I am glad to say.' He'd still been licking his wounds after the failed assault on Minas Tirith, but of course that didn't bear mentioning.  
  
'I think we must serve something out of the ordinary for these very special guests,' he continued. Clapping his hands sharply, he summoned his chancellor and gave detailed instructions for the feast.  
  
***  
  
Jessamin said as persuasively as she could, 'Bessime, I know that Ha'anas has sent you presents; couldn't you slip a note to him, ask you to meet him here?'  
  
'And why would I want to do that? He's homely!' Bessime protested. 'I do not want to encourage him.'  
  
'Perhaps he has a brave heart,' Jessamin said. 'And have you seen his eyes? They are the eyes of a...'  
  
'A doe!' Bessime said in disgust. 'Large and soulful, they plead but have no spirit.'  
  
'Large and soulful,' Jessamin sighed.  
  
'Why don't _you_ slip him a note, if you're so enamored of him all of a sudden.'  
  
'Bessime,' Jessamin said in exasperation, 'Please. I want him to meet the little creatures. They seemed to understand some of the words that passed between him and that Gondorian. Perhaps he can be of help to us in their training.'  
  
'I hadn't thought of that...' Bessime mused, then brightened. 'Why didn't you say so in the first place?'  
  
When the interpreter arrived, peering with interest at the little creatures, Jessamin approached the guard, saying, 'Could you please order us a meal? The littlest ones are starting to whine; perhaps they are hungry.'  
  
Ha'asad nodded and left the room; Jessamin sighed in relief. They had a few precious moments, no more. The other guard, Ha'aran, was a friend of hers, one who'd pressed her often enough to put on the marriage bracelets, though she was not quite ready to retire from her position as animal keeper... He'd been called away on an errand, and for the moment they were free of guards and their listening ears.  
  
'Speak to them as you spoke to the Gondorian,' she said.  
  
'But they are animals!' he protested.  
  
'I am just curious. Perhaps they come from Gondor, originally. If they respond to that speech, you might teach us a few words to help in their training.'  
  
'All right,' Ha'anas said. 'But I feel awfully silly.'  
  
'Would a moonlight stroll help you feel less awkward?' Bessime said playfully.  
  
'Tonight?' he asked. She smiled and nodded. Jessamin would owe her much for this day's work.  
  
At that moment, Ha'aran came back. 'So much for the prince's collection,' he said morosely. 'It is back to standing watches on the walls for us.'  
  
'What do you mean?' Jessamin gasped.  
  
'The king has ordered a special feast,' he said, 'and he has decided to sacrifice the prince's collection to honour the distinguished guests.' He sighed. 'I was becoming rather fond of these little creatures,' he said.  
  
'Ha'aran, no!' Jessamin protested as he reached out for the nearest. Celandine gasped as the huge guard grabbed her little Berilas by the hair, lifting him into the air, drawing his scimitar.  
  
'O Maker,' he intoned, for animals were given to Man for his protection and use, and must be slain only as the Law dictated, 'You who have given us these creatures, grant now the life of this one for the sustenance of our bodies...'  
  
Celandine stumbled forward, shouting, 'T's'ala!' It was the Big Folks' word for "stop", the strongest word she knew in their language.  
  
The Big Folk all froze, and Ha'aran lowered his blade, though he continued to hold the squirming hobbit lad aloft. 'It is a parrot,' he said, raising the blade again. 'No more than that. It is simply mouthing a noise it has heard repeated many times.'  
  
'Wait!' Jessamin said desperately. 'Put him down, wait a moment, Ha'aran, please...'  
  
'The king has ordered...' Ha'aran began.  
  
'Please...' Bessime broke in.  
  
'I am to bring their carcases to the kitchens,' he said, 'I dare not linger.'  
  
'Let us try to talk to them,' Jessamin said in her most persuasive tone.  
  
'Talk to them? Why?' he said. 'They are animals, about to be served at the king's table. Why waste your breath reassuring them? I will give them a quick death, I promise.'  
  
'Just one moment,' Jessamin said. She licked her lips, trying to turn the gesture from sheer nervous reaction to seduction. This was, after all, Ha'aran, who wished to marry her...  
  
'A moment, then,' Ha'aran said. 'I know you have grown fond of them. You may have a moment to take your leave.'  
  
Jessamin nodded, then turned to the interpreter. 'Ha'anas, please? Remember what we were speaking about, a moment ago.'  
  
The interpreter looked nervously at her, and then the guard, but nodded and crouched to look the little mother in the eye. 'I bring you greetings,' he said. The little creature jabbered back at him, and his eyes widened. He fell backwards in his surprise.  
  
'What is it?' Jessamin asked, helping him up, while Ha'aran started forward. She waved him back with an urgent look. _You see nothing, you hear nothing..._ He nodded, and stepped back, face once again blank.  
  
'It... it spoke!' Ha'anas said in wonder.  
  
'Ask it if it knows what "Pheriannath" means,' Jessamin said. The question was asked, and the creature jabbered again, the little ones jumping up excitedly to chime in.  
  
The interpreter turned to her with a terrible expression. 'It said...' he faltered.  
  
'What?' Bessime said impatiently.  
  
'It said, that _it_ is a Pheriannath, a subject of the King of Gondor, one of the "Little People" of his kingdom.' He swallowed hard, thinking of their narrow escape. 'They are not animals at all!'  
  
Ha'aran dropped Berilas as if the curly hair stung his fingers. 'Not animals!' he said. 'Then it is forbidden by the Law to kill and eat them.' He looked as if he were about to lose his last meal, and Bessime had a hand to her mouth as well.  
  
'Good,' Jessamin said. 'I'm glad that we found out in time.'  
  
'But the king has ordered their deaths,' Ha'aran said, troubled. He fingered his blade. 'By the Law they cannot be killed with steel...'  
  
Celandine started to relax, only to hear him continue, 'as slaves, they must die under the rod. I would rather give them a quick ending than see them beaten to death.'  
  
Jessamin spoke quickly; she did not know when the other guard would return. Perhaps he had stopped in the kitchen to refresh himself, but in any event, there was no time to waste.  
  
'Ha'aran,' she said, 'I have ten goats in my dowry, as you very well know.' She looked up at him through half lowered lids, for she knew her long eyelashes were very attractive.  
  
'What does that have to do with this?' he asked in irritation.  
  
'Take them, kill them, skin them and deliver them to the kitchens with the rest of the prince's collection,' she said. 'Leave the Pher... Pheri...' she stumbled over the word, and continued, 'the little ones to me.'  
  
'What are you going to do with them?' he demanded.  
  
'It is better that you do not know,' she said. 'But take the goats.' She batted her eyelashes at him. 'Don't you know what I am saying?'  
  
'I...' he said, distracted.  
  
'You can talk about your wedding plans later,' Bessime broke in, taking his arm and pushing him towards the door. 'And you, Ha'anas, perhaps when we take our moonlight stroll this night we can make some plans of our own...' She escorted them out of the room, and Jessamin bent to the little ones... she could no longer call them "creatures", after all.  
  
'Do you understand what I am saying?' she asked slowly.  
  
The little mother nodded, her arms still wrapped tightly around Berilas.  
  
'Then come with me,' Jessamin said. 'Come at once. Quickly.' She led them from the room, through a maze of passages, to another room filled with baskets and piles of bright silks and cottons.  
  
'In,' she ordered, gesturing to the baskets. 'I do you no harm,' she said, when the little mother hesitated. 'In! Quickly!'  
  
Celandine made a quick decision to trust this Big Person, who had offered them only kindness in their time here. 'Into the baskets, children,' she said, and they complied, three hobbits in each basket, a big one taking two little ones in hand.   
  
Jessamin helped lift the littlest ones in. Staring intently at the hobbits, she said, 'Not a word.' She had to make them understand. Putting a finger to her lips, she made the shushing sound she'd heard the little mother make. 'Quiet! Your lives, and mine, depend upon it.'  
  
The little mother nodded, and turning to her little ones said, 'Let us play the mouse game! Do you remember the part where the mice were hiding from the cat?' Jessamin could not understand, of course, but she was reassured to see the little ones duck down in the baskets. Working swiftly, she threw piles of fabric over the tops. Before covering the little mother, she said, 'Wait. No sound. Wait.'  
  
To her surprise, the little one answered Jessamin in the language of Haragost. 'As long as it takes,' Celandine said. 'Thank you.'   
  
Jessamin impatiently dashed away a tear and gave the little mother a last hug. 'I will not forget you,' she said.   
  
'Go with grace,' Celandine answered, again in Jessamin's language, and Jessamin nodded.   
  
'May you go in grace, and find safety,' she answered, and then she covered the little mother, Blossom, and Poppy under layers of dirty cotton fabric.  
  
It was stuffy and smelly in the baskets, but the little hobbits were playing the mouse game, and when the cat is near, the mice make no sound or complaint, no matter how uncomfortable the hiding place might be. After all, if the cat did not find them, they would win the game...


	20. See Now What Love

Note to Readers:   
  
I am just returning from vacation (hoorah! Vacation is fun, but not getting to write daily is very wearing on the nerves).  
  
"The Law" as used in this story is not meant to resemble any modern system of belief. In other words, I made it up, after thinking about how a society of proud warriors not recognising the beliefs of Numenor might be ordered.  
  
Thank you for the comments! Was going to comment on everyone's comments, but my relatives just noticed that I'm on the computer, so I must get off again. Ah, well. Will go ahead and post ch 20 before I bail out of this airplane, anyhow...  
  
Have written well ahead in this story, and "Flames" as well, so look forward to daily updates for the nonce, unless something happens to interrupt.  
  
I have added a new chapter to "Flames" as well, in case you are following that story.  
  
***  
  
**20. See Now What Love**  
  
The winter rains had finally arrived, putting an end to picnics, but Sam and Rose did not have to fret about their daughters spending too much time underground, for Verbena had proclaimed the girls ready to travel homewards. She had also pronounced Reginard fit to travel to the Great Smials, in easy stages. Regi fretted at this, thinking of the waste of time, taking three days to make a two-day journey, but Ferdibrand waxed so ridiculous, talking of stopping at every farmstead along the way, 'for a good rest, and a meal, and perhaps a change of ponies, for we would not want the ponies to be wearied any more than yourself, my good Steward,' that Regi overcame his irritation enough to laugh at the chancellor. To his relief, the laughter did not threaten to shake his innards loose.  
  
Ferdibrand invited Fastred and Leotred to join them, as his invaluable assistants. 'I have come to lean heavily upon these youngsters,' he informed Pippin. 'Were you to take away my props, I might fall upon my face and flatten my nose.'   
  
'We cannot have that,' the Thain said dryly. 'Must I offer them each a position?'  
  
'I really think you must,' Ferdi replied solemnly. 'Leotred, now... Verbena tells me he has absorbed all the knowledge she has to give, and she was about to send him away, in any event, to learn more of healing. Who better than Woodruff, to finish his training?'  
  
'Who better, indeed?' Pippin agreed.  
  
'And Fastred... I have great hopes for the lad. He has so much energy, if we can just channel his restlessness into a useful direction. He reminds me of someone...' Ferdi mused.  
  
'Yourself, perhaps?' Pippin said.  
  
'Me, restless?' Ferdi said, astounded.  
  
'You,' Pippin nodded.  
  
'Let us say, rather, that I prefer not to let the grass grow beneath my feet,' Ferdi said with dignity.  
  
'Restless,' Pippin said firmly.  
  
Ferdibrand changed the subject. 'Nell has agreed to come and attend my Nell.' Translated, this meant that Elanor would help Pimpernel with the children, some of whom took after their father in restlessness. 'And the Mayor and his wife have agreed to spend Yule at the Great Smials, along with the rest of the Gamgees.'  
  
'It will be a lively holiday,' Pippin said, then looked at Ferdi from under his eyebrows. 'You are not matchmaking again, I hope.'  
  
'Matchmaking?' Ferdi pretended astonishment. 'I have much too much serious business to attend to, I assure you.' He humphed, and left the room, grumbling to himself. 'Matchmaking...' Pippin watched him go with a smile.  
  
'He _is_ matchmaking,' Reginard said.   
  
'Of course he is,' Pippin answered. 'And since he has a kind of instinct for these things, who am I to protest? However, I really think it ought to be up to the Mayor and his wife, to approve their daughters' suitors.'  
  
'It ought to be...' Regi said. 'But they'll accept the inevitable, I think, if Ferdi gets his way. As he usually does.'  
  
Pippin laughed. 'At least it keeps him in a good humour,' he said.  
  
***  
  
The army had marched through the Lion's annexed territory and now camped outside the gates of the capital city and port of Haragost, between the road and the banks of the river that fed into the Sea near the break in the cliffs that blessed Haragost with its natural harbour.  
  
The Lion had ordered business to proceed as on any ordinary day, and so wains rolled through the gates out of the city, coming from the harbour, or farmers pulled their hand-carts, returning from the market after selling their crops. One enterprising farmer brought his half-empty cartload of melons near the camp of the visitors, drew out his curved blade, neatly sliced the melon, and proceded to eat, licking the sweet juice from his fingers.  
  
A dwarf stalked over and offered a silver coin. The farmer snorted and held up five fingers. The dwarf snorted in return, holding the coin out again. An exchange of snorts and gestures resulted in the dwarf's buying three melons for four silver coins, a satisfactory exchange in the opinion of both parties, though they put on their sourest expressions to seal the bargain.  
  
Gimli brought the melons back to where his dwarves had settled. Thin slices of succulently sweet melon made the cram go down more easily, and there was a little less grumbling from that quarter of the camp than usual. Gimli took the last two slices of melon to where Legolas reclined, holding one out to the elf.  
  
'My thanks, friend,' Legolas said. 'Did you get a good price?'  
  
'Highway robbery,' Gimli replied. He lowered his voice and said, 'I hope he doesn't report my thieving ways to his king...'  
  
Now the palace workers were setting up tables before the city gates, laying down long rugs for seating, jabbing tall torches into the ground, as yet unlit, but ready to be put into action as soon as the westering sun dipped below the horizon. The Lion had invited the so-called king of Gondor and his captains to a feast that evening. Cooks were busy in the kitchen, turning out delicacies fit for kings and their advisors. The activity reached a frenzied pitch as the sun kissed the horizon and began to sink into the Sea.  
  
Great platters of food began to appear, carried out through the gates to be set upon the tables. Slaves with fans came to brush away any insects that might try to join the feast.  
  
'An enticing sight,' Legolas murmured.  
  
'Yes, quite the ambiance. Skillfully arranged food, arrayed against the beauties of the city, also decorated for the occasion,' Gimli replied, nodding to the head- and skull-topped pikes that stood on either side of the open gateway.  
  
A messenger bowed before the elf and dwarf. 'The King has ordered a gathering of all his captains,' he said. The dwarf nodded, and the elf gracefully regained his feet, slipping his knife back into its sheath after wiping away the sticky juice.  
  
'A delicious treat, my friend,' he said with a bow. 'Probably lembas and a bit of fresh melon would be more wholesome than whatever will be served there.' He turned away from the pikes with their grisly adornments, and the two walked to the King's pavilion.  
  
Elessar was sober as he gave his instructions. 'Poison is not unknown to these people,' he said. 'Watch what they eat. Take only food from trays that you've seen our hosts serve themselves from. Eat sparingly. If food is pressed upon you, an acceptable excuse for refusing is to say you are sick with the heat.'  
  
Gimli grumbled at that, and the King looked at him sternly. 'Better to appear weak than to die of poison,' he said.  
  
'They would poison their guests?' Faramir asked.  
  
'If possible. We are, after all, an invading army in their eyes, and if they can cripple us by poisoning off the leaders, they will have no compunction at doing so, and blaming it on natural causes.' His gaze swept the captains gathered there. 'Be alert, be cautious, be excessively polite. And keep your eyes and ears open. The halflings were seen in the court, by the messenger.'  
  
'It is too much to hope that they would be at the feast,' Imrahil murmured.  
  
'If there were a way for them to be there, without our noticing, this Lion would arrange it,' Elessar said grimly. 'Keep your eyes open.'  
  
***  
  
Bessime walked boldly into the laundry, basket of clothes on her head. 'What are you all still doing here?' she said sharply to the workers who were sorting the piles of clothes. 'The feast is about to begin, and more servers are needed. Out!'  
  
The workers bowed and scattered, not thinking to ask why she was bringing more... but of course, she was of the family of a minor noble, and perhaps she'd been ordered by a superior to see to some last-minute washing.  
  
Bessime walked over to the corner where the already-sorted baskets waited for the washing on the morrow. Putting her basket down, she began to sort clothing into the ready baskets, and one of the workers nodded to herself. It was as she thought. Someone wanted their laundry done first.  
  
'Well?' Bessime snapped. 'You have a question? Do you need more work to do?'  
  
'No, ma'am, I was just leaving,' the lingering worker said, and hastened away. Serving food was certainly better than sorting laundry, and she might be able to sneak a few bites, if she were careful.  
  
Bessime continued to sort, then reached into the bottom of her basket for the three bags concealed within. Pulling away the top layer of clothes from the first basket she said slowly and clearly. 'You understand me?'  
  
'A little,' Celandine answered.  
  
'Good,' Bessime nodded. She handed the bag to the little one. 'Food, water, pot,' she said. 'Must hide. Not leave basket. Use pot. Understand?' She dug in the bag to bring out the little brass pot with its tight-fitting cover. Celandine nodded. The Big Folk had thought of everything, even taking care of bodily needs... the stay in the baskets was not over, it seemed.  
  
'How long?' she asked carefully.  
  
'Tomorrow,' Bessime said. She bit her lip, trying to think of the simplest words to explain. 'Pick up baskets. Go to river. Put down baskets.' She pantomimed washing clothes upon the riverbank.  
  
Celandine nodded. On the morrow, someone would carry the baskets of laundry outside the gates to the riverbank. She had seen it, herself, over the high wall one day when Jessamin and Bessime had been walking their charges and had lifted the hobbits up to look over the plain.  
  
'Stay quiet, very quiet,' Bessime said. 'Clothes lifted off, little ones run! Run to king!' She spoke the last words in a whisper. Should anyone hear her treason, she'd be providing exercise and food for the coursers herself, on the the morrow.  
  
'King?' Celandine breathed.  
  
'Your king,' Bessime whispered. 'King Ha'alassar.'  
  
'Elessar is here?' Celandine said, and there was a squeak of excitement from the next basket.  
  
'Yes,' Bessime said impatiently. 'Now hush!' She rapidly supplied the other two baskets of little ones with their bags of necessities, then turned back to Celandine. 'Explain to children,' she said. 'Stay put. Stay quiet. Eat. Drink. Use pots.' She listened as the little mother rapidly whispered instructions, heard with relief the assenting whispers from the tween in each of the other baskets. 'Explain "run to king",' she prompted, and Celandine complied.  
  
'Good,' Bessime said in satisfaction. 'I go now. Jessamin greets.' On impulse she gathered the little mother in a hug. 'Love,' she said, and then she stopped trying to speak simply, for there were no simple words to express her feelings. 'I will miss you, little ones. May the Maker watch over you and bring you safely to the other side.'  
  
'Go with grace,' Celandine answered in her own language. The two understood one another, and after a quick, fierce hug, Bessime released the little mother and Celandine buried herself, Poppy and Blossom beneath the dirty clothes once again.


	21. False World, I Do Not Trust You

Note to Readers:   
  
I am just returning from vacation (hoorah! Vacation is fun, but not getting to write daily is very wearing on the nerves).  
  
"The Law" as used in this story is not meant to resemble any modern system of belief. In other words, I made it up, after thinking about how a society of proud warriors not recognising the beliefs of Numenor might be ordered.  
  
Thank you for the comments!  
  
Bookworm, I surely hope they don't get caught, as well... would really ruin my day.  
  
Xena, yes, I enjoyed thinking out the melon-buying scene. Many of the threads in the tapestry are starting to come together.  
  
Have written well ahead in this story, and "Flames" as well, so look forward to daily updates for the nonce, unless something happens to interrupt.  
  
I have added a new chapter to "Flames" as well, in case you are following that story.  
  
***  
  
**21. False World, I Do Not Trust You**  
  
There was high tea in the great room of the smials at Greenholm, the eve of the Thain's and the Mayor's departure, but it was not at all a solemn occasion. Laughter rang out often, the food was festive, and the singing echoed off the cavernous roof in sweet harmony.  
  
Mayor Sam and his Rose were relieved to see their daughters looking much the same as they'd left Tuckborough, in this case surrounded by young Greenholm farmers rather than young Tooks, but still smiling, though Rosie-lass was not at all flirtatious, not any more. She took her cue from Elanor, and the Mayor and his wife marveled at their two grown-up daughters, graciously receiving the attentions showered upon them.  
  
Healer Verbena watched in satisfaction as Reginard stood to propose a toast to their generous hosts. Although he seemed well on the way to recovery, Pippin and Ferdi bundled him off to bed fairly early in the evening, leaving Hilly and Tolly with him to make sure he stayed there. The rest of the travellers sought their beds not long after the usual time for late supper, for morning and departure would come early.  
  
'I must admit, it will be a relief to get back to the Smials,' Pippin said quietly as he and Ferdi were checking on the sleeping steward. 'It is nearly time for the babes' naming day.'  
  
'And Rosamunda's babe is overdue,' Ferdi replied. 'We need to get Regi back soon, before he's in even more trouble with his wife than he is already.' He looked down at the other, pulled the blanket up a bit more. 'Does she know, yet, what happened?'  
  
'I don't think so,' Pippin said. 'The dragons would guard the news quite fiercely, I think, to keep it from her. She'd know something was wrong, but since Rose Gamgee was called away, she might suspect it had something to do with the Mayor or his family.'   
  
'I think when she sees the scars, she'll begin to suspect it had something to do with her husband,' Ferdi said dryly.  
  
'Undoubtedly,' Pippin said. He sat down in the chair next to Regi's bed with a sigh. 'I'm going to miss this chair,' he added. 'We've become good friends over the past weeks.'  
  
'Why don't you take it back to the Smials with you?' Ferdi said acidly. 'Honestly, Pip, you belong in a bed. Take yourself off, now; Regi doesn't need watchers any longer.'  
  
'You're as much a mother hen as Regi ever was,' Pippin said.  
  
'Cluck, cluck,' Ferdi answered. 'Now shoo.' With a bit more nagging, he was able to get the Thain into a proper bed. Hilly slept already, and Tolly watched by the door, as Ferdibrand settled himself for sleep. Soon, the only sound was the quiet breathing of the sleepers, as Tolly watched by the dim light of the turned-down watchlamps.  
  
***  
  
The interpreter sat between the two kings, quickly translating the comments of each to the other. Elessar suspected that the Lion knew at least some Westron, several times catching a flicker in his eyes when a comment was made, before it was conveyed to him by the interpreter.  
  
The food was superb, a wide range of colour and texture and taste, but the centerpiece of the feast was a richly varied stew compiled from diverse exotic ingredients.  
  
'Many rare animals went into this stew; you shall never taste its like again,' the interpreter conveyed the Lion's boast.  
  
King Elessar stirred the portion that was ladled onto his plate, looking at the many different lumps of unidentifiable meat, speared a forkful, started to lift it to his mouth, only to find the Lion's eye upon him, evidently in keen anticipation. He put the fork down, to sip instead of his wine, which had been poured from the same bottle as the Lion's, and engaged the Lion in a discussion of the wildlife to be found in these regions.  
  
Legolas was watching intently from further down the table. Now he put a hand on Gimli's arm. 'Don't eat the stew,' he warned. 'There's something wrong with it.'  
  
'How do you know?' the dwarf grumbled, reaching for another piece of bread. He was careful to take only from the platters he saw their hosts take from. It became fairly obvious as the feast went on that certain platters needed steady replenishing, while others remained untouched.  
  
The elf returned only a look. He wasn't sure how much his hosts understood of their speech, but he was not taking any chances. Many of the Men of Haragost around him seemed upright and honourable and no more enthusiastic about this feast than he was, but the king who called himself "Lion" wore a mantle of darkness, as did some of his guards, to the elf's "other" way of seeing.  
  
The son of the Lion sat by his father's side, neither eating nor talking, glowering with displeasure, though he did not display the same darkness as his father, in Legolas' estimation. Listening closely, the elf heard the interpreter tell Elessar that the stew was comprised of the many exotic animals in the Prince's collection. 'He is getting too old for such pursuits,' the Lion added, 'and it is time to turn his attention to matters of governance and defence.' _And conquest_, the elf added silently to himself.  
  
Several of the Men of Haragost laid down their forks at this, with somber expressions, and only the Lion took additional servings of the much-vaunted stew, for none of the guests had tried the stew after Elessar's signal.  
  
After the guests protested that they could not manage another bite, the music and entertainment began. Men with bodies painted in colourful designs jumped and tumbled, juggled flaming brands and razor-edged knives, balanced plates atop long sticks; veiled women danced, their gossamer robes floating upon the perfumed air.  
  
Finally, the wearisome evening was ended; the two kings agreed that their advisors would meet on the morrow to discuss their differences, and the guests and their hosts rose from the low tables, stretched, exchanged nods, and began to disperse. On his way out, the Lion's interpreter stumbled against Legolas, grabbing at him with drunken good humour, throwing his arms about the elf's shoulders, babbling incoherent cheerfulness. As Legolas caught him, to keep him from throwing them both to the ground, he hissed in the elf's ear, 'Tomorrow. The river. Where the women wash.' Pushing himself away, the interpreter laughed inanely. Legolas set him safely on his feet, patted him on the shoulder with a kindly smile and nod, and turned away.  
  
'He's had a bit too much feasting, it seems,' the dwarf grumbled at his side.  
  
'Perhaps,' Legolas answered. 'He'll have a big head in the morning, I fear.'  
  
***  
  
Passing by the darkened laundry, a guard heard a sound and stopped. Listening closely, he walked softly into the room, shining his lantern about the baskets with their sorted contents, piled ready for the morning washing.  
  
The soft sound came again, and he drew his razor-sharp blade and stepped softly forward. The lantern light fell upon a figure atop one of the piled baskets, and he relaxed and chuckled as one of the royal cats rose and stretched with a yawn.  
  
'Are you taking a rest in your endeavors, little one?' he said, putting away his scimitar and scratching the furry guard under its chin. 'I have seen no mice this night, so you must be doing your job.' The cat _pr-r-rowed_ as it rubbed its chin against his hand, then jumped down and began to walk away. The guard chuckled again and continued his own rounds.  
  
The mice stayed very still and quiet.  
  



	22. How Brightly Shines the Morning Star

Note to Readers:   
  
I am just returning from vacation (hoorah! Vacation is fun, but not getting to write daily is very wearing on the nerves).  
  
"The Law" as used in this story is not meant to resemble any modern system of belief. In other words, I made it up, after thinking about how a society of proud warriors not recognising the beliefs of Numenor might be ordered.  
  
Thank you for the comments!  
  
Yes, Dana, and how *did* your kitty manage to sneak into the story??? (Do you think it's too much, for Gimli to say "ambiance"? He *has* been hanging out with an elf, you know.)  
  
Bookworm, the interpreter wasn't drunk. It was all part of the act, and the only way he could plausibly approach one of Elessar's folk without exciting suspicion. And even at that he was taking a terrible risk...  
  
Aemilia Rose, yes, the cat was a bit of gravy, added to the mouse game.  
  
Pansy, Aragorn's face, hearing of the stew, is coming up soon... the chapter is already written and will be posted this week sometime, if all goes well.  
  
Xena, yes! Aragorn's Ranger qualities, I hadn't even thought of that! But of course, it would make him more observant. I liked the way Legolas was watching out for Gimli, myself, knowing he might not be the most observant person in the world (have a mental image from the movie, of him saying "ooo" as the elven arrow appears an inch from his nose...)  
  
FantasyFan, it is going to start to get better now... hang in there. (Eeew. I find spiders seriously scary, myself)  
  
Have written well ahead in this story, and "Flames" as well, so look forward to daily updates for the nonce, unless something happens to interrupt.  
  
I have added a new chapter to "Flames" as well, in case you are following that story.  
  
***  
  
**22. How Brightly Shines the Morning Star**  
  
The first day's journey would be by necessity the longest, as there were no inns between Greenholm and Michel Delving. Quite early, Healer Verbena was watching over the preparation of the coach; Leotred, Hollyberry and Raspberry placed a litter across the gap between two of the facing seats and heaped the resulting "bed" with pillows and padding, tucking flannel-wrapped hot bricks in here and there. The foot-warmers were filled with hot coals, baskets of provisions were handed in as other luggage was strapped onto the top, the ponies were hitched in, and all was made ready for the travellers.  
  
It seemed as if all of Greenholm escorted the travellers to the coach and waiting ponies, accommodating Reginard's slow pace. When he reached the coach, Verbena said sharply, 'O no you don't!'  
  
'What is it?' Reginard asked. 'Did you change your mind about letting me go?'  
  
'His wife is going to start getting suspicious,' Ferdibrand said behind one hand, and at Regi's look of annoyance added, 'and babe or no babe, she'll be on her way to Greenholm to find out what's happened to her husband! Probably have the babe along the road between Michel Delving and...'  
  
'Enough!' Verbena said, exasperated. To Pippin, she said, 'How do you ever put up with him?'  
  
'He grows on you, with time,' the Thain replied equably.  
  
'Wears on you, more like,' Verbena grumbled. 'Now, Master Steward, you are not going to step up into that coach, you are going to allow yourself to be lifted in and settled, for all you walked here on your own legs...'  
  
Though Regi would have protested, a look from the Thain silenced him, and he suffered himself to be lifted and settled comfortably. After hugs all around, Rosie-lass and Elanor were next to step in, then their mother, and Verbena made sure all were well muffled against the chill in the air. Then she turned to her sons.  
  
'Take good care of them,' she said to Leotred. 'I expect you to bring back much of healing that I've not learned, and teach it to me!'  
  
'I will, Mum,' he answered with a hug, then climbed into the coach, settling in the vacant seat between Mistress Rose and the steward.  
  
Fastred was taking his leave of Hollyberry, Raspberry, and his younger brothers and sisters. After hugging them all, he came to the next-oldest lad. 'Halfred,' he said solemnly. 'You're to be the Hobbit of the family, now that Leot and I are away on business.'  
  
Halfred stood a little taller. 'Yes, sir,' he said. 'You know you can count on me, Fas.'  
  
'I know that I can,' Fastred replied. 'I expect to find all the harness mended, the ponies tended, and the plow sharp and ready when I return next spring; we've crops to put in, you know.'  
  
'We'll see to it, Fas,' the little brothers chorused.  
  
'How about a hug for your mum?' Verbena said at his elbow, and he turned to gather her in a firm hug. 'Don't go forgetting where your home is, now,' she added.  
  
He laughed in surprise, putting her away to look into her face. 'Why, however could I do that? Home is where you are, Mum.'  
  
'Until you're married,' she answered. 'Then home is where your wife is.'  
  
He made a great show of lifting his arms and looking about himself. 'No wife in sight,' he said. 'I think we're safe, for now.'  
  
'Go on with you,' she said. 'Learn much, be of aid to the Thain, but don't go growing roots in Tookland.'  
  
He hugged her again. 'I won't, Mum. I'll be back in time for spring planting.'  
  
'Don't be late,' she said, for all the world as if he were going off to polish harness, to be back in time for tea. Her arms tightened about him, this great, grown son of hers, so much like his father... and she released him and stepped back.  
  
Pippin gravely shook hands with the leaders of the community of Greenholm. 'The guardsmen will keep a sharp watch for ruffians,' he said, 'and I have requested that they ride out with your farmers onto the plain.' He looked at the sky. 'I know it's a bit late in the season, but perhaps you can get some winter wheat and barley in, yet, and do some breaking in preparation for the spring.'  
  
'Many thanks,' said a grizzled hobbit, Fastred's uncle, his mother's older brother.  
  
'I'll let you know when there's word from the King,' the Thain added. He turned to mount his pony, and the rest of the party followed his lead. Mayor Sam, Frodo, Tolly, Hilly, and Ferdi mounted their own ponies; Fastred exchanged a few final words with his uncles, then mounted his own pony.  
  
'We're off!' Mayor Sam shouted, and there was a cheer from the hobbits of Greenholm.  
  
'...like a dirty shirt,' added the irrepressible Ferdibrand, and so, the journey began with laughter.  
  
***  
  
Bessime sat in the darkened garden courtyard, breathing the perfume of the night-blooming plants. The bench she'd sought was in a hidden corner. She wondered if Jessamin had found a place to wait through the night, or if she'd gone back to their quarters. Had their plot been discovered? Had the little ones been found in their baskets in the laundry? Had her sister already been seized, taken by guards to await death in the dawning light? She pulled her robes more closely about her and shivered, then jerked upright at a soft step.  
  
She relaxed as Ha'anas stepped into a patch of moonlight. As the interpreter moved past her, she whispered his name, and he stiffened.  
  
'It is I, Ha'anas, no need to fear,' she said.  
  
'What are you doing here?' he hissed, dropping to sit beside her. She could feel him trembling.  
  
'The same thing you are, I'm sure,' she answered. 'Hiding from the king's guards.' She dropped her voice even more, putting her lips close to his ear. 'Did you pass on the message?'  
  
'I did,' he murmured. 'If the king or any of his cronies noticed, I'll be food and sport for the coursers in the morning.'  
  
'_Did_ anyone notice?' she demanded.  
  
He shook his head. 'I'd be the last to know,' he whispered. 'The king likes his little games, you know. Let the mouse run a bit, think it's free, then snap it up just as it is about to escape.' His head jerked up, and suddenly he seized her in his arms, was kissing her fiercely. She started to push him away, only to hear Ha'asad's amused voice.  
  
'Nice night for lovers.' She felt rather than saw the interpreter wave impatiently at the guard, and laughing, Ha'asad moved away. With relief, they heard his steps retreat from the garden. Some time after Ha'anas saw his shadow leave the doorway, he released Bessime.  
  
'Did he see who we were?' she whispered, heart pounding.  
  
'I do not think he did. We are in the shadows. He saw only a man and a woman, locked in a passionate embrace.' The interpreter dropped his face into his hands and shuddered. 'Forgive me for forcing my attentions upon you, my lady.'  
  
'There was nothing to forgive,' Bessime said gently. 'I will not call the Law down upon your head for this night's work.' She reached out tentatively, finding his hand. He took hers in his own, and they sat together, waiting through the rest of the long and fearful night, finding comfort in each other's company.  
  
When the sky began to pale, Ha'anas stirred. 'They will find us, no matter where we hide,' he said. 'We might as well watch from the wall as shiver here.'  
  
Bessime nodded. With the dawn, the washers would be carrying the baskets out of the city gate to the riverbank, as part of the Lion's order that all appear as normal and peaceful as possible in the face of the so-called king of Gondor and his army. From the wall they would see if the little ones escaped... if guards did not arrest them at the wall before the washers reached the riverbank.  
  
***  
  
Legolas and Gimli strolled along the riverbank as the sun rose over the plain. The city was already bustling as the people of Haragost took advantage of the cool morning hours. Merchants were setting up their wares in the marketplace, farmers' carts were rolling in through the city gates, bored guards nodding at the drivers.  
  
Muscular slaves hauled the great baskets of laundry to the riverbank, and the elf and dwarf stopped to see the colourful sight of the washers tucking their silken skirts into their sashes and wading into the river to begin their task.  
  
'Quite the peaceful view,' the dwarf rumbled to his companion. 'You rousted me out of a comfortable bed, for this?'  
  
'It is good for the heart to greet the dawn,' the elf returned pleasantly. 'And we will work up a good appetite for our breakfast.'  
  
'You sound like a hobbit,' the dwarf accused. 'They're always looking forward to the next meal.'  
  
The elf didn't answer, he was staring fixedly at the washers, and his arm rose to grasp the dwarf's in excitement as he saw small figures tumbling out of the baskets. 'Look!' he hissed, and broke into a run towards the washers.  
  
The dwarf was close behind; he'd seen the small, bright figures, too, running desperately towards them, pursued by shouting slaves, a hobbit mum clutching her babe in its sling, carrying a toddler on one hip, and two tweens, each carrying a tiny hobbit-child in one arm and towing a slightly larger hobbit-child from the other hand.  
  
With a roar, Gimli freed his axe and raised it high. They reached the hobbits just before the slaves did, and as Legolas gathered the hobbits to himself like a mother hen taking her chicks under her wings, Gimli stepped between hobbits and pursuers, axe at the ready. The slaves stopped, confused, hands out to show that they were weaponless. 'All right,' the dwarf growled, keeping his axe high. 'You may go about your business.' He jerked his chin at the overturned baskets by the riverbanks, moved the axe suggestively, and the slaves fell back, reluctant, but persuaded that, for the moment, they were safer to let the little ones go than to press the matter. Gimli waited until they had reached the baskets and resumed their tasks before he lowered the axe to look over their situation.  
  
Legolas was surrounded by a clinging crowd of little hobbits, either squeaking in excitement or weeping with relief.  
  
'You came for us! You came!' Celandine was sobbing, clutching at Blossom and Poppy and Legolas, looking about, to reassure herself that, yes, her eight children were all here and accounted for.  
  
'Of course we did,' Legolas said warmly, bending down to take the hobbit mum in a hug. 'I bring you greetings from the Master of Buckland. He sent word that I couldn't come back for a visit unless I brought you along with me.'  
  
Celandine laughed through her tears. 'I can just hear Merry saying that,' she said.  
  
'Let us not tarry here,' the dwarf growled. 'They might notice that they outnumber us, and decide to argue after all.'  
  
'Outnumber us?' Legolas laughed. 'A mere score, against Legolas and Gimli? Old friend, I do believe you are giving them too much credit!'  
  
'Very well, then, let us take these strays back to the shepherd,' Gimli rumbled. 'I'm sure the King will be happy to greet his missing subjects. I know _I_ will be happy to turn around and march out of this oven of a land.'  
  
'Are you sure you are finished baking?' the elf asked, and laughed at the look the dwarf gave him. He looked down at the hobbits who clung so tightly around him. 'Come, chicks,' he said. ' 'Tis time to go home.'


	23. Haste to Strike, Oh Longed for Hour

Note to Readers:   
  
"The Law" as used in this story is not meant to resemble any modern system of belief. In other words, I made it up, after thinking about how a society of proud warriors not recognising the beliefs of Numenor might be ordered.  
  
Thank you for the comments! Reviews keep the Muse happy. She whispered quite a long chapter in a traffic jam today, very angsty, I fear, but traffic jams do seem to bring out angst, don't they?  
  
Have written well ahead in this story, and "Flames" as well, so look forward to daily updates for the nonce, unless something happens to interrupt.  
  
I have added a new chapter to "Flames" as well, in case you are following that story.  
  
***  
  
**23. Haste to Strike, Oh Longed for Hour**  
  
'Here's the first farm!' Fastred called, waving an arm in the air. The Thain nodded, and the group turned in at the farm lane. The farmer came out to meet them, overwhelmed at the sight of a coach and large party of mounted hobbits riding up to his door.  
  
'May I help you gentlehobbits?' he called.  
  
'We've come to return your ponies, and pick up the ones we left here, with thanks,' the Thain answered.   
  
The farmer straightened then, recognising the Thain. 'It was my honour to be of assistance, Sir,' he answered, then raised his voice to call his sons. 'Tad! Tam!' Hilly and Tolly had already jumped down from their ponies and were removing the saddles. The farmer instructed his sons to catch the ponies they'd left off on the swift journey from Tookland, and he slipped halters on his own ponies and led them to the barn.  
  
While they were waiting for the exchange to be finished, the farmer's wife warmed Regi's bricks in her oven, and provided fresh coals for the foot-warmers. She also managed mugs of tea for all her guests, and fruit tarts she'd baked for her own family's second breakfast.  
  
'How're you faring, Reg?' the Thain asked, sticking his head in at the coach. The steward looked pale, to his eyes.  
  
'I'm fine,' Reginard said. 'Well padded, hardly feel the motion of the coach, might be in my own bed at home, and all.' Pippin looked at him sharply; he was rambling, not usual for him.  
  
'I gave him something,' Leotred said quietly. 'He's not entirely with us at the moment.'  
  
'I see,' Pippin replied. 'You be sure to wave if we need to stop.'  
  
'We're all right for the nonce,' Leotred answered. 'The road will improve when we get closer to Michel Delving. At the moment the best thing to do would be to drive slowly.'   
  
The Thain nodded. After making sure that Rose and her daughters were comfortable, he withdrew his head and closed up the coach again. At his nod, Ferdibrand pressed a small bag of coins into the farmer's hand, against the latter's protest, 'for your trouble,' he said.  
  
They proceeded more slowly to the next farm, where they again exhanged ponies. At this farm they again re-warmed Regi's bricks, renewed the coals in the foot-warmers, accepted warming mugs of tea and hot food pressed upon them by the farmer's wife, and left a bag of coins in the farmer's hand.  
  
The road for the last stretch, between farm and Michel Delving, was smoother and they were able to quicken their pace. As the bright faces of the White Downs came into sight, taking on a pink hue in the light of the westering Sun, Leotred waved from the coach. Pippin instantly called a halt, and opening the door, said, 'What is it?'  
  
'If we could stop now, it would be a good thing,' the healer's apprentice said, worried. The Thain looked about them, not even a farmstead in view, and shook his head. 'Well, then, let us drop to a walk, if we may, Sir? Lessen the motion as much as may be.' Pippin took a good look at the steward, pale and limp on his makeshift bed, while Elanor sponged his face.  
  
'Is he bleeding inside?' Pippin asked quietly.  
  
'No, I don't think so,' Leotred answered, 'but he is very tired.'  
  
The Thain nodded. 'We shall proceed at a walk,' he said. 'We will stop if we absolutely must, but he might be more comfortable in a proper bed... and the White Downs are within sight.' They stopped long enough to have a meal out of the hampers, then the riders mounted again and they walked on.  
  
When they reached the outskirts of Michel Delving, Ferdibrand kicked his pony into a trot, motioning to Fastred to accompany him. Full dark had fallen, and they trotted through the darkened streets, past the windows filled with welcoming light, to the inn, where Ferdi swung down and tossed his reins to Fastred. 'Stable them,' he said, 'and join me inside.'  
  
Once inside, Fastred heard the last of the arrangements the chancellor was making with the innkeeper. 'Yes, Sir, right away, Sir,' the innkeeper kept repeating with a series of bows.  
  
Ferdibrand loosened his cloak as the innkeeper began to shout instructions for rooms to be made up and hot food and 'Ned, where are you? Run and fetch the healer at once, d'you hear?'  
  
'And warm the beds!' Ferdi put in, pulling off his gloves. The innkeeper nodded, his stream of orders continuing, as Ferdi guided Fastred into the common room. 'Something hot,' he said to the serving lass, 'and be quick about it, if you please.' Within a moment, two steaming mugs were in their hands.  
  
'There, gulp that down, lad, and then watch for the coach whilst I see to the rooms,' Ferdi said, draining his own mug while Fastred was still sipping cautiously at his. Fastred complied, burning his tongue, but the warmth went down and went a long way to dispel the chill of the long, slow walk in the icy wind. Ferdi was instructing the serving lass to have more mugs of hot drink ready when the coach came in, then he disappeared with the innkeeper.  
  
Fastred greeted the arriving healer, who looked him up and down with a professional eye. 'What seems to be the trouble?' the old hobbit asked.  
  
'Trouble's on its way,' Fastred answered. 'As a matter of fact, here it comes, now.' The coach was just turning into the yard.  
  
'Good,' said Ferdi's voice at his elbow. 'Room's all ready, bed's warming as we speak.' He strode out into the yard, jerked open the door to the coach, helped Rose, then Elanor, then Rosie-lass from the coach. By then the other riders had dismounted. Ferdi stepped into the coach, helped Leotred pick up Reginard, blankets and all, and handed him out to the waiting Pippin, Frodo, Sam, and Fastred, who followed the innkeeper to the room with its warm bed, the healer falling in behind.  
  
They laid Regi down and the healer commenced his examination, stopping short when he'd opened the shirt, to see the healing wounds. 'Is this a trick?' he demanded. 'No one could survive such injuries!'  
  
'He did,' Pippin said quietly. 'But we're worried that the coach ride might have shaken something loose. Is he bleeding inside?'  
  
The healer humphed and muttered to himself as he continued his examination, but when he straightened up, he said, 'No, I don't detect any signs of bleeding. He seems to be completely exhausted, which doesn't surprise me. What _does_ surprise me is that he is alive at all.'  
  
'What about food?' the Thain pressed.  
  
The healer considered. 'Broth,' he finally answered. 'To be on the safe side.'  
  
'Won't Regi be pleased to hear that?' Ferdi muttered behind his hand to Tolly. Hilly snorted. Ferdi stepped forward then, to say, 'I'll watch with him for the nonce. The rest of you, get some hot food into you.' He glared at the Thain, adding, 'Diamond'll have my hide if you take a chill.'  
  
'We cannot have that,' Pippin said mildly. 'You've scarcely any hide left, at this late date.'  
  
***  
  
As Ha'anas and Bessime left the garden courtyard, they heard the baying of hounds break out beyond the walls. Bessime stiffened, tears coming to her eyes. 'Jessamin,' she whispered.  
  
'We shall see,' the interpreter said. Cautiously, they made their way to the city wall. They were on the opposite side of the city from the great army, and looking over the wall, they saw the great plain running away to the south. They could see small figures running in the pre-dawn light, and behind them, guards holding vicious canines that leapt and strove to free themselves from the chains that kept them back.  
  
'No women,' Ha'anas said, 'so it is not your sister. But I see at least one guard,' he stared after the running figures. 'Ha'aran?'  
  
'If they've taken him, they will be after us next,' Bessime chattered, shaking with fear. 'Perhaps they could not find Jessamin yet.' She clasped her hands to her mouth as the guards loosed the coursers and the deadly race began.  
  
'Don't watch,' Ha'anas whispered, turning her away from the wall. 'Let us make our way to the other side of the city, and watch the washers at work.'  
  
'What is the point?' Bessime sobbed, but she allowed herself to be led away as the first of the runners was caught and the screams began to float over the plain.  
  
They stole through the city, grateful for every guard that overlooked their passing, although it was necessary several more times for Ha'anas to take Bessime in his arms, to throw his cloak over them both when he thought a guard had been prompted to take a second look.  
  
After what seemed an eternity, they reached the wall overlooking the river and the encamped army. The washers had already reached the shallow spot and were beginning to unpack the baskets.  
  
'What is the use?' Bessime repeated. 'They were found, they were found in the night, and...' she gasped as the slaves emptying the baskets tipped out something else, mixed in with the clothing, and small figures began to run away from the river. 'They'll be caught,' she said in an agony of despair as the slaves recovered from their astonishment and began the chase.  
  
'No, wait,' Ha'anas said in excitement. 'Look!' They saw the end of the chase, the rescue by the tall figure and the short one with the axe, the slaves' retreat and reluctant return to their task, the little ones borne away to safety.  
  
'O,' Bessime let her breath out in a long sigh, as Ha'anas wiped away her tears with a gentle hand. 'O they are saved. Now I may die with a clear conscience, at least.' She looked up at her companion. 'Shall we surrender ourselves to the guards?'  
  
He shook his head. 'There is no hurry,' he said. 'Let us walk in the sunshine, share a cool drink. Let death come when it comes, no need to help it along any.'  
  
'You are a very wise man,' Bessime said. 'Have I ever told you how dark and deep your eyes are...?'  
  
***  
  
King Elessar was meeting with his captains when a guardsman entered. 'Beg pardon, Sire, but the Lion's general is asking to meet with you.'  
  
'Now?' Elessar said. 'It's barely dawn.'  
  
'He insists it is urgent, Sire,' the guardsman said.  
  
'Show him in, then,' Elessar answered, with a puzzled look at Imrahil. The prince shrugged. He might be more familiar with the Haradrim than the king of Gondor, but he certainly had no idea why the Lion's general would risk meeting with Elessar, alone.  
  
He was not alone, however. The prince of Haragost was with him, both of them grim, the prince clearly apprehensive. They entered fully armed, as local custom demanded; even at the feast last night, all had worn their weapons as symbols of their station, warriors, not slaves.  
  
Now the guards stiffened and drew their swords as the general swept his scimitar out, waving it before the king before going to his knees and presenting the hilt to Elessar.  
  
'Take it,' Imrahil hissed. He knew that much of custom. To ignore a weapon so freely presented risked insulting the presenter, resulting in a change of heart on his part and loss of life on the intended recipient's part. Slowly, Elessar took the weapon in hand.  
  
The general took a deep breath. 'I give my life, a ransom for my people, and for my prince,' he said in careful Westron.  
  
'I do not understand,' Elessar said slowly.  
  
'The Lion... he had your people,' the general said. 'We knew, his trusted staff knew. We had heard of the Pheriannath, though his son thought them only little creatures, animals for his collection.' He turned his eyes to the prince, then back to Elessar. 'It amused the Lion to keep his son in ignorance.'  
  
'We knew they were your subjects, and when he ordered them killed, and served to you in the stew...'  
  
Imrahil sucked in his breath, and the weapon in Elessar's hand trembled. There were gasps of horror from the others in the pavilion.  
  
'Please,' the general said, bowing his head again. 'Take my life in payment. Do not destroy our people in your wrath.'  
  
'And mine,' the prince said, dropping to his knees beside the other. 'Take mine, if more payment is needed.'  
  
'No, my liege,' the general gasped. 'You must lead them now. Do not throw your life away.'  
  
'Lead them?' Elessar asked, his voice soft, but steel would have been less sharp.  
  
The general raised his eyes to the king's. 'The Lion is dead,' he said. 'The stew... was tainted. All who feasted on it died in the night. Those followers of the Lion, who did not feast, have gone to the dogs in the dawn.'  
  
'A palace coup,' Imrahil whispered. 'A clean sweep?' he asked aloud.  
  
The general looked at him. 'Clean,' he said. His lip curled. 'Too long the filth has been allowed to boil at the top of the pot. We have skimmed away the scum, and I pray that what is left is clean.' He bowed his head again, to await the death stroke.  
  
There was a commotion outside, an outbreak of shouting... an attack? But no, the soldiers were cheering.  
  
The flap of the pavilion was thrust open again, to admit a grinning guardsman. 'Sire,' he shouted. 'Sire, it's the...'  
  
He was interrupted as Legolas entered, carrying two hobbits in each arm, followed by Gimli, bearing three hobbits, Celandine at his side with her babe.  
  
'The Pheriannath,' Imrahil whispered. He looked quizzically at the general, who had once again lifted his head, to gaze at the hobbits, eyes wide with wonder. 'I thought you said...'  
  
'The Maker be praised,' the general said. 'They have been restored to us, those we thought irretrievably lost.' He took a shaky breath and closed his eyes, his lips moving in a silent prayer.  
  
The prince gave a cry of joy and rose to go to the hobbits. Gimli stiffened, but Legolas shook his head at him in subtle signal.   
  
'My little ones!' the prince cried, tears of joy streaming down his cheeks. He fell to his knees, holding out a hand to Celandine. 'Please forgive, my lady, forgive my not-knowing.'  
  
Though the heavily-accented words were difficult to understand, the hobbit mum grasped his meaning. She bravely extended her hand to meet his, allowed it to be swallowed in his grasp, smiled and said, 'All is well.'  
  



	24. Ring Out, You Songs, Resound, You String...

Note to Readers:   
  
"The Law" as used in this story is not meant to resemble any modern system of belief. In other words, I made it up, after thinking about how a society of proud warriors not recognising the beliefs of Numenor might be ordered.  
  
Thank you for the comments! Reviews keep the Muse happy.   
  
Have written well ahead in this story, and "Flames" as well, so look forward to daily updates for the nonce, unless something happens to interrupt.  
  
I have added a new chapter to "Flames" as well, in case you are following that story.  
  
***  
  
**24. Ring Out, You Songs, Resound, You Strings!**  
  
They stayed an extra day at Michel Delving, though by the next afternoon, as he started to feel better, Regi fretted at the delay.  
  
'What if the babe is born today?' he asked in frustration.  
  
'You'd still miss it,' Ferdi said practically. 'It'll take us another two days to reach the Smials, after all.'  
  
'You're no help at all,' Regi growled, but Ferdi only smiled and patted his shoulder.  
  
'On the contrary, I'm a great deal of help,' he said, 'but you'll only realise it after I'm cold in the ground.'  
  
'Perish the thought,' said the Thain with a shudder.  
  
'You _have_ caught a chill,' Ferdi said accusingly.  
  
'No, no I haven't,' Pippin said, unaccountably subdued. He could not explain the feeling, what the old aunties called "someone tugging at my shroud".  
  
Ferdi jumped up to refresh Pippin's tea from the steaming kettle anyhow, and threw another log on the fire for good measure.  
  
***  
  
Jessamin found Bessime and Ha'anas shortly after they turned away from the wall. 'Wonderful news,' she bubbled, catching at their arms. 'Mighty indeed is the Maker! Merciful is the Law!' She bowed and made the sign of the Law, adding 'Glory and honour and blessing forever!'  
  
'Hush,' Bessime said urgently. 'Just because the little ones escaped...'  
  
'They escaped?' Jessamin gasped. 'O of course they did!' She bowed and made the sign of the Law again. 'The hand of the Maker was upon them.'  
  
Ha'anas pulled her to him and put a hand over her mouth. 'Please, my lady,' he said. 'Calm yourself.' To a curious guard, passing by, he said, 'The lady has seen a spider and was in hysterics until I killed the creature.' He stomped a foot for good measure and raised his voice. 'It is quite dead, I assure you, my lady!'  
  
He looked deeply into Jessamin's eyes and slowly took his hand away. 'Quiet, now?' he whispered.  
  
She nodded, but the look of unhoped-for joy did not fade. 'The Lion is dead,' she whispered.  
  
'Dead!' Bessime exclaimed, then remembered to lower her voice. 'How? When?'  
  
'In the night, he and many of his cronies, all who ate with him at the feast,' Jessamin whispered back. 'And the others...' here her bright smile faded, and she shuddered.  
  
'What?' Bessime hissed.  
  
'They... they went to the dogs, this morning at dawn, all who did not eat of the stew and die.' She shuddered again. 'Ha'asad was one.'  
  
'Eaten?' Ha'anas said incredulously. 'By his own little pets?'  
  
'I think I'm going to be ill,' Bessime said. 'And what of Ha'aran, then?'  
  
Jessamin pulled back a silken sleeve, and her sister gasped. 'The marriage bracelet!' she said. 'Last night?'  
  
Jessamin nodded. 'I am not a widow this morning,' she said. 'The Lion never completely trusted Ha'aran, and it turned out he had good reason, in the end. Ha'aran's the one who told General Ha'alan what was to be put into the stew.'  
  
'Did he tell him about the goats?'  
  
'No, he told him on his way back to kill the little ones, so of course he did not know about the goats at that time.'  
  
'Then the general didn't know about the goats, either,' Bessime said slowly. 'He thought the little people were...' She put a hand to her mouth. 'O I think I really _am_ going to be ill.'  
  
'The general could not save the little ones,' Jessamin said, 'but he arranged for the stew to be tainted, made it look like the Lion's orders; as the stew was being made up to honour the special guests, it was not hard to convince the head cook... who thought the guests would be eating the stew.'  
  
'We have news of our own,' Bessime said, firmly changing the subject. She pulled her own sleeve back, and Jessamin looked from her arm to each of their faces in turn.  
  
'Last night?' she whispered.  
  
'Was it only last night, my husband?' Bessime said, emphasising the title, looking up at Ha'anas.  
  
'It was, my wife,' he answered, smiling down at her.  
  
Bessime smiled serenely back at her sister. 'Yes,' she said, 'I do believe we have confirmed that the marriage bracelets were exchanged last night.'  
  
A wild yell went up from the city wall, more voices joining in, and still more, until it seemed as if the walls and towers and rooftops themselves were shouting. The conspirators joined in, at the top of their lungs, to swell the joyous clamour. The news had been made public. The Lion was dead.  
  
***  
  
Elessar had persuaded the general to rise to his feet, take back his weapon, and have a seat. He called for wine, though the sun was not yet halfway to zenith, and they solemnly toasted the future.  
  
The prince and the elf sat upon the ground, close together, arms protectively curved about the sleepy little hobbits nestled in their laps. The prince's eyes were wide with wonder and sparkling with joy. To find that his little creatures were _people_ only added to his delight. He was saddened to hear of King Ha'alassar's ban, that he could not enter the far country his little friends inhabited, but it was enough to know that they would return to their own place in safety. His heart would not be oppressed by the knowledge that he had caused their destruction.  
  
'I wish I could see their country some day,' he said wistfully.  
  
'You might be able to see it, at least, even if you cannot set foot upon its soil,' Legolas answered slowly.  
  
Gimli snorted. 'Do not tell me,' he said. 'The plan is to sail the hobbits home to Buckland.'  
  
'Much faster and easier than for them to journey by waggon,' the elf answered. 'The Dove is already anchored off Haragost, awaiting the King's command.'  
  
Gimli sighed. 'I had wanted to visit the cousins again soon...' he said. 'But... by ship...' He shook his head in disgust. 'The sacrifices I must make,' he rumbled.  
  
The King had called his scribe over. 'I want this message sent off to Buckland at once,' he said. 'Master Meriadoc can send the news on to Thain Peregrin. Tell him we have recovered the hostages, safe and sound.'  
  
'Yes, Sire,' the scribe said, and began immediately to write. He had just started to write down the names of the hobbits rescued when a great tumult broke out in the city, startling everyone. The guards jerked to attention, and those who were seated jumped to their feet, including the scribe, with the exception of the elven prince and the prince of Haragost, who were mindful of their sleeping charges.  
  
'What is it?' Imrahil asked the general.   
  
The other took a deep breath and said, 'I think the news has become known; the Lion is dead.' He bowed low before the prince of Haragost. 'The king is dead!' he shouted, only to be hushed by his new liege. In a whisper, he finished, 'Long live the new king!'  
  
'I thank you,' the prince said regally, with a kingly nod.  
  
A guardsman stuck his head into the tent. 'The messenger is ready, Sire,' he said.  
  
The scribe hastily recalled his business, rolling and tying the scroll, dripping the hot wax and applying the seal of Gondor, handing the message to the guardsman, who bowed to Elessar and withdrew.


	25. Behold Then and See if There is Any Sorr...

Note to Readers:   
  
"The Law" as used in this story is not meant to resemble any modern system of belief. In other words, I made it up, after thinking about how a society of proud warriors not recognising the beliefs of Numenor might be ordered.  
  
Thank you for the comments! Reviews keep the Muse happy.   
  
Have written well ahead in this story, so look forward to daily updates for the nonce, unless something happens to interrupt.  
  
I have added a new chapter to "Flames" as well, in case you are following that story.  
  
***  
  
**25. Behold Then and See if There is Any Sorrow**  
  
Ferdi entered Regi's room, rubbing his hands together.  
  
'Cold outside?' asked the Thain.  
  
'No, no, a bit brisk is all,' Ferdi said. 'And I was out without gloves, for my fingers needed all their cleverness just now.'  
  
'O?' Pippin said. 'Been fletching arrows, just to pass the time?'  
  
'No, better than that,' he said. 'I think our steward shall ride well this day, if all goes as it ought.'  
  
'What do you mean?' Reginard asked. His colour was better, and the healer had relented and allowed him to eat breakfast after yesterday's broth.  
  
'You'll see,' Ferdi said. 'Something an elf taught me once.'  
  
'Legolas taught you to throw a knife, as I recall,' Pippin said. 'Are you going to skewer Regi, then, put him out of his misery?'  
  
'I beg your pardon,' Ferdi said with dignity. ' 'Twas something else, not as useful up until now, perhaps, but I think it worth a try.'  
  
'Then let us try,' Regi said, pushing himself up from the pillows.  
  
'Not so fast,' Ferdi said. 'We're going to wrap you well against the chill and carry you out.'  
  
'Carry me!' Reginard said, aghast.  
  
'O aye, you might as well get used to the idea,' Ferdi said sternly. 'For if you fight me I will have to be firm.'  
  
'Firm?' Pippin queried.  
  
'Leotred is that far,' and Ferdi held his finger and thumb very close indeed, 'from giving you a sleeping draught, I will have you know.' He fixed Regi with a glare. 'In your head, or out of it, you're to be carried to the coach.' He relaxed and smiled cheerily. 'Well,' he said briskly. 'Shall we get started?'  
  
'Have at it,' Regi answered gloomily. Without comment, he allowed them to wrap him up, lift him between four hobbits, carry him out to the waiting coach. Inside, they found a sort of sling suspended from the frame of the coach from ropes attached to heavy springs of the sort the coach-makers used in the most expensive vehicles.  
  
'It's a hammock,' Ferdi explained. 'Just like you'll find in your garden at home. Legolas explained to me that sailors in ships sleep this way, as easily as rocking a babe in a cradle.' They maneuvered Reginard into the sling, still blanket-wrapped.  
  
'There,' Ferdi said in satisfaction. 'Cosy?'  
  
'Surprisingly, yes,' Regi answered.   
  
Ferdi laughed and patted him on the shoulder. 'Good,' he said. 'Perhaps you'll be back in good time to rock that babe of your own.' He stepped out of the coach so that Rose, her daughters, and Leotred could settle themselves.  
  
They made good time that day, with no distress to the steward. Stopping at an inn for hot drinks and hot food, Pippin shook his head. 'Ferdi, you're a wonder.'  
  
'I keep telling you that, and only now you believe me?' the other grinned.  
  
Fastred broke in. 'You mentioned an elf,' he said. 'You know an elf?'  
  
'Do I know an elf?' Ferdi said expansively. 'Why, we are practically cousins! Finest of the fair folk you'd ever hope to meet. He was running about in bad company before I set him straight though...'  
  
'Bad company?' Leotred asked.  
  
'O aye,' Ferdi nodded wisely. 'Seems he took a long trip with a scruffy ranger and a dwarf and a few hobbits of the Shire who ought to have known better... They corrupted him, you know.'  
  
'Corrupted him?' Fastred repeated, fascinated.  
  
'O aye,' Ferdi said. 'Instead of them learning of him some of those fancy elvish ways, they taught him hobbit songs and stories and games. Why, I understand his folk won't even let him in, back home in Greenwood, anymore, made him go off South somewheres and set up his own dwelling place.'  
  
'Don't believe a word he says,' the Thain said grimly.  
  
'Now what have I said that isn't true?' Ferdi protested. 'Name me one thing.'   
  
Pippin sputtered.   
  
'Hah,' Ferdi said in satisfaction. He gulped the last of his tea and handed the mug to the open-mouthed serving lass. 'Are we going to sit around here all the day, or are we going to take Regi back to Tuckborough before his poor wife pops?'  
  
***  
  
There was one more day's delay while Elessar, his staff, and the advisors to the newly crowned King of Haragost worked out details, such as the release of slaves, return of lands to their rightful owners.   
  
General Ha'alan would act as regent to the young King until he came of age, two years hence. In the meantime, Elessar invited King Ha'alas to travel with him, to see to the return of the hobbits to their homeland, personally, then to visit the North-kingdom, and finally to travel through the lands from Fornost to Minas Tirith, and south to Haragost again.   
  
General Ha'alan considered, and consented to the plan, naming it an excellent education for the young King. Elessar's advisors told him that the honourable old soldier would be a trustworthy guardian of the young King's land and people, and Elessar was inclined to agree.  
  
The little hobbits were in a fair way to be spoilt by the attentions of Elessar's army and the people of Haragost, showered with attention and gifts everywhere they went, had not Celandine so much good, solid hobbit sense.  
  
When she began to feel overwhelmed, she herded her little brood to where the dwarves camped, settling them in the midst of this no-nonsense group, where grunts and grumbles were more prevalent than gushes and goo.  
  
Gimli welcomed them, telling them stories, letting the littlest ones settle in his lap with his beard for a blanket, crooning softly in his own tongue as they dropped off to sleep.  
  
One of the dwarves stalked over, to drop a handful of bright ribbons in his lap. 'Bought them off a peddlar, terrible persistent fellow he was, took the pretties off his hands just to get rid of him,' he growled. 'P'rhaps the wee bairns might find them amusing.'  
  
Gimli nodded, and the other moved quietly away, not quite tip-toeing, but making sure his heavy boots made no noise to disturb the little ones' nap.  
  
'That was a lovely thing for him to do,' Celandine said, and yawned.  
  
'Why don't you lie yourself down as well,' Gimli said. 'I'll keep an eye on the little ones for you.'  
  
'I think I will,' the hobbit mum said, stretching out on a blanket roll that had been conveniently laid out nearby. 'I must confess we slept very little, the past few nights.'  
  
'Sleep well, then, and dream in peace and safety,' the dwarf rumbled.  
  
Celandine smiled, sighed, and allowed her eyelids to drift closed. Soon all the hobbits, from mum to tiny babe, were sleeping peacefully. The dwarves sat very quietly, without the slightest rumble to disturb their guests. Gimli found himself nodding as well...  
  
When he awakened, it was to the delightful sound of tiny hobbit giggles, and he looked down to see little Poppy clapping her hands with glee. 'Pretty,' she crowed, smiling up at him. 'Pretty, pretty!'  
  
He smiled back at the lass, unconsciously reaching to stroke his beard, to encounter unfamiliarity. Looking down, he saw that the braids that showed his family and clan had been taken out and replaced with many small braids, bright lengths of ribbon worked in amongst the twists of hair, a work of hobbit art if he'd ever seen one.  
  
'Did you do this?' he asked, and Poppy nodded in delight.  
  
'And Mayblossom and Meadowsweet and Larkspur!' she announced proudly.  
  
Celandine awakened and rubbed her eyes. 'O Poppy,' she began in distress.  
  
The little face turned sober, and the wide eyes went from mother to dwarf. 'Isn't it... isn't it...?' she began, but Gimli lifted her up, to give her a gentle hug.  
  
'It is nearly perfect,' he said gamely. 'I think your mother just wanted to point out a little spot you missed. Here now...' he said, pulling the errant hair out to make it more convenient for little fingers. 'You get to braiding this. I think I see one more piece of ribbon, isn't that handy?'  
  
***  
  
The message proceeded at speed up the Harad Road, the riders changing horses every twenty miles, where the army had left re-mounts for just such a relay. Passing Minas Tirith, the riders split, one going to the White City, one to Ithilien, and the rest towards Rohan and ever northward, until at last it reached Buckland, bringing the news to the folk of the Shire.  
  
"By order of King Elessar, I, Targil, write this message.   
"We have found the hostages and set them free.   
"They shall travel by ship to Buckland,   
"and with fair winds should arrive in the New Year.  
"Hobbits rescued: Blossom, Poppy, Larkspur"...


	26. They Are All Waiting On Thee

Note to Readers:   
  
Thank you for the comments! Reviews keep the Muse happy.  
  
Pansy Chubb, My little ones still do my hair up on occasion, usually whilst I am reading aloud to them. You cannot imagine how gorgeous I am when they have finished...  
  
Xena and Bookworm, I went to canoe camp in my teens, and our group had a male and a female counselor. One day, the male counselor, who had a long, bushy beard and long hair, went to sleep after a swim, after a hard day of paddling and carrying canoes over portages. Would you believe that our gaggle of giggly 13- and 14-year-olds braided his hair and beard in tiny braids and tied each braid with a bright red ribbon, all while he slept? Yes, I confess. We did. ...and he was a very good sport about the whole thing, even when he took the braids out, finally, and discovered we had "zapped" his hair (braiding it wet, letting it dry, it stood out as if he'd stuck his finger in an electric socket).  
  
Have written well ahead in this story (am at chapter 34 already, can you believe it?), so look forward to daily updates for the nonce, unless something happens to interrupt.  
  
I have added a new chapter to "Flames" as well, in case you are following that story.  
  
***  
  
**26. They Are All Waiting On Thee**  
  
Ferdi and Fastred again rode ahead when the coach reached the outskirts of Tuckborough. The town was bedecked with Yuletide cheer, the marketplace bustled with hobbits buying special provisions for the holiday feasting, and despite the cold drizzle there was an atmosphere of anticipation and celebration.  
  
When they reached the yard of the Smials, Ferdi tossed his reins to Fastred, saying, 'Wait a moment,' and strode into the Smials, acknowledging the greetings of the Tooks who'd seen them ride up.  
  
'Ferdi! You've returned! Is the Thain coming?'  
  
'He is,' was the reply, 'so look sharp.' Fastred watched as the guards flicked imaginary dust from their clothes and straightened to stand proud before the doors.  
  
Ferdi was soon back with Healers Woodruff and Mardibold and several sturdy Tooks. Mardi greeted Fastred soberly, saying, 'Did you get a chance to give Regi my message?'  
  
'I did,' Fastred answered, 'and he was much appreciative.'  
  
'I can imagine,' the healer said dryly.  
  
'The Ent draught worked,' Woodruff said. 'Perhaps he was not so bad off as they'd thought...?'  
  
'You'll see for yourself when we bring him in,' Ferdi said. 'I want you to make a thorough examination, give us an idea of how much longer he ought to be in bed.' He shook his head. 'I'm surprised Rosa didn't have the babe, yet.'  
  
'You're not the only one,' Mardi said.  
  
'How will she react to the news that Regi's been injured?' Ferdi said worriedly.  
  
'As long as she sees him alive and well...' Mardi began.  
  
The coach rolled into the courtyard, interrupting him, and pulled up before the door, the escort dismounting, the Thain accepting the greetings of his people, then turning urgently to the coach.  
  
'Gently, now,' Ferdi said as two of the Tooks went to the door of the coach, handed out the Mayor and his ladies, and then stepped into the coach to lift out Reginard.  
  
'I am well, I can walk,' he was protesting, and Mardibold stepped up quickly.  
  
'No you don't, Son,' he said. 'My daughter will have my hide if she finds out I've let you walk into the Smials.'  
  
What little colour Regi had left his face. 'She knows?' he said faintly.  
  
'No, not yet, but I have a feeling she'll be finding out soon,' Mardi said briskly, nodding to the Tooks to carry the steward in. 'She's at late supper now, but they'll send her in to you as soon as we have you comfortably settled.'  
  
'Ferdi, see to things,' Pippin said vaguely as he followed the little procession of Regi, his bearers, and Leotred. The chancellor nodded.  
  
'Come, Fastred, we have things to see to,' he said, and soon the younger hobbit found himself immersed in details; ponies cooled out and put away, the Mayor and his family settled in a suite, late supper sent to them there, luggage taken down from the coach and dispersed to its final destination, and all the other myriad details of arrival.  
  
In the steward's suite, the bearers had lain him upon his bed and departed with bows to the Thain. The healers unwrapped the layers of blanket and cloak, but as they reached the final layer, the Thain stayed their hands.  
  
'You know what happened?' he said.  
  
Woodruff shook her head. 'Only that he was injured when captured by ruffians,' she said. 'That could mean anything.'  
  
Pippin nodded, and said, 'If the news can be kept confined to this room... if it is at all possible, then that is what must needs be done.'  
  
'Sir?' Woodruff said.  
  
'One of the reasons the King issued an edict to bar Men from the Shire, was to avoid staining the hearts and minds of hobbits with their violent ways,' Pippin said. 'I do not want this to become common gossip about the Smials, spreading the contagion to Tookland and beyond.'  
  
'We shall do our best,' Woodruff said, and Mardi nodded. Pippin stepped back, and they pulled back the edges of the steward's shirt. Woodruff sucked in her breath, and Mardi swore softly.  
  
'If I had not seen the Ent draught at work, I would ask how it is he still lives,' Woodruff murmured. Looking intently at Reginard, she said, 'How do you feel?'  
  
'Tired,' Reginard said. 'A bit stiff and sore, but no more than that.'  
  
'You are able to eat, and drink? Your body functions as it should?'  
  
'O aye,' Regi said, 'or they wouldn't have let me come at all.'  
  
'I have seen such wounds resulting from hunting accidents,' Mardi said grimly, 'but this...' He swallowed. 'This looks as if someone shot an entire quiverfull into you.'  
  
'They did,' Regi said quietly. 'All but the ones that missed, anyhow.'  
  
'Not many missed, I'd say,' Mardibold said.  
  
'No, not many did,' Regi affirmed. The healers went over him thoroughly, poking and prodding and asking questions, until they were satisfied.  
  
They got him into a night shirt and tucked into the bed before Rosamunda came, with a glad cry. 'Reginard! I thought you would never come!' She knelt awkwardly to hug him, then was helped into the chair next to the bed. 'This babe will be born any day now, I think,' she said. 'But... you...'  
  
Rosamunda looked up at the Thain. 'I thought something had happened to Mayor Samwise, with Rose Gamgee being called away so suddenly.'  
  
'No, not the Mayor, but the two oldest Gamgee daughters were in grave peril for a short time, and Regi was injured...'  
  
'Why wasn't I told?' Rosa said fiercely, gripping her husband's hand tightly enough to make him wince. Seeing this, she loosened her grip and apologised, but turned a stern face to the Thain.  
  
'You could not have travelled to his side, in your condition, and there was nothing to be done,' Pippin said gently.  
  
'Nothing,' she gasped, the colour draining from her face. She had followed in her father's footsteps, and as a healer, she recognised the meaning of the phrase the Thain had just employed.  
  
'Rosa, I am well, now, or nearly so. On the mend, anyhow,' Regi said soothingly. 'Reports of my dying were greatly exaggerated.'  
  
'But you were dying,' she said slowly.  
  
'They used the Ent draught,' her father said quietly.  
  
'But that's so dangerous,' she protested. 'Regi?'  
  
'Do not upset yourself, my love,' he said, tightening his grip on her hand. 'All is well.'  
  
'He is mending nicely,' Woodruff said encouragingly, 'and while I intend to keep him abed another week or three...' she glared sternly at the steward's groan on hearing this news, 'I think he will be back on his feet sometime next month.'  
  
'Next _month_,' Regi protested.  
  
'Aye, verily, or the month after,' Woodruff said. 'But not to worry. Ferdi's got enough energy to do his job and yours combined.'  
  
'That's what worries him,' Rosamunda chuckled. 'If the Thain ever finds out, he might just elevate Ferdi to steward and give Regi the push.'  
  
'If the Thain ever finds out what?' Pippin asked.  
  
'Never you mind,' Rosamunda said firmly.  
  
***  
  
Celandine stood by the rail, waving to the well-wishers on shore, a riot of colour interspersed with black and silver. They were finally on their way home! She looked up at the King beside her.  
  
'Elessar,' she said. 'I do not know how to thank you.'  
  
'You have thanked me over a dozen times already, you know,' he smiled. 'Once would have been sufficient.'  
  
'No, and a dozen times, or a dozen dozens, will never suffice,' she said. 'What you saved us from...' The wonder in her eyes grew. 'You marched that great army South, for us...'  
  
'Well,' Elessar said practically, 'we had a few other fish to fry as well, and now we have come out of it not only with the hostages intact, but a new ally in the bargain.' He smiled at the King of Haragost, who bowed with a smile of his own.  
  
'Tell me again of your country,' Ha'alas said now in halting Westron. 'It seems I can never eat my fill of your words.'  
  
'As long as it's just words to be eaten,' Gimli growled to Legolas beside him, a little further down the rail.  
  
Legolas looked at him with a thoughtful expression. 'Actually,' he said, 'it is quite a hobbity thing to say, seeing as hobbits are so often eating their fill...'  
  
***  
  
In the middle night, on the day the Dove sailed from Haragost with her joyful cargo, the King's message came to Buckland at last. The messengers slid from their lathered horses and ran to pound on the North Gate.  
  
A sleepy Shirriff swung open a small door in the wall. 'What is it?' he asked with a yawn.  
  
'Message from the King!' one of the messengers shouted. 'To be delivered to the Master at once!'  
  
The Shirriff was immediately awake and alert, wakening others to draw back the great bar that locked the gate, saddling a fast pony and alerting the quick post rider. Within minutes, the message was on its way to Brandy Hall at the pony's fastest pace.  
  
Merry jerked awake at the tap on the door. He slipped from the bed, hoping to avoid disturbing Estella, but she sat up and said, 'What is it?'  
  
'Message from the King, Sir,' the servant said as Merry opened the door. He took the scroll, opened the lamp to fullest brightness, began to read. Estella watched the play of emotions across his face, joy, satisfaction... sudden shock.  
  
'What is it, beloved?' Estella asked again.  
  
'Good news,' he said in a hollow voice. 'Blossom, Poppy, and Larkspur have been recovered safely.'  
  
'But... what of Celandine? ...and the others?' she gasped.  
  
He shook his head, handing the scroll to her, waiting until she'd finished reading.  
  
'I must go and let Berimas know,' he said quietly. 'At least... at least he has not lost his entire family.'  
  
He tightened his hands into fists. 'We should be shouting for joy, for what Elessar was able to accomplish,' he said. 'This is more than I ever dared to hope for.' He sighed. 'So why do I wish for more...?'  
  
Estella took him into a long hug, holding him until he shook himself and broke free. He took the scroll from the bed where she'd dropped it, kissed her tenderly on the forehead, and said, 'I must bear this news to Berimas.'


	27. Now Goes the Year to its End

Note to Readers:   
  
Thank you for the comments! Reviews keep the Muse happy.  
  
Dana, abso-bloomin'-lootely smashing reviews! (have been humming "My Fair Lady" this day, can you tell? You were spot on... yes, the scribe ought to have said "all safe" but he's an i-dotter and a t-crosser, or he wouldn't be a scribe, now, would he? And yes, Gimli is more cynical than Legolas, but Leggie is right. He was adopted by the hobbits first, you know, so he's been a "hobbit" longer than the dwarf-hobbit. And you still have the homecoming to look forward to, I think (peeking). Yes, that's right.  
  
FantasyFan, in the next chapter you'll see a conversation between Fastred and Leotred that will let you "get into his head a little".  
  
Bookworm, you're right, but... well, you see, the scribe got a little distracted, there...  
  
Runaround, have you come to tea with us before? Pull up a chair... would you prefer seedcake or berry tart?  
  
Xena, yes, it's always nicer to heal at home. Ever been sick on vacation away from home? Miserable.  
  
Have written well ahead in this story (am at chapter 34 already, can you believe it?), so look forward to daily updates for the nonce, unless something happens to interrupt.  
  
I have not added a new chapter to "Flames", in case you are following that story, but it is in the works. Check back, say, Wednesday... Of course, if you look at the author page at ff.net, you'll see if it gets updated sooner than that.  
  
***  
  
**27. Now Goes the Year to its End**  
  
Yuletide at the Smials was a merry time. Every night there was a large fire on the enormous hearth in the great room. The tables were cleared away after late supper and musicians played for the dancers until the wee hours. When the musicians tired, or stopped to eat, the storytelling took place.  
  
By far the most popular stories seemed to be those from the Red Book, but there were other stories as well, for the Tooks had a long tradition of storytelling. There were always enthusiastic cheers when the Thain could be persuaded to sit and tell one of his "elf and dwarf" stories, and sometimes the Mayor could be pressed into a story of his own. Fastred sat, and listened, and learned each night.  
  
Of course, the Mayor's family attended the fireside celebrations as well. Frodo and Merry Gamgee danced most of the dances with Rosie-lass and Elanor, when the older hobbits were occupied. However, at least once, Ferdi steered Elanor over to Fastred, asking, 'Can you stand in for me, this once, lad? I don't see any sign of Nell's brothers, and I find myself in need of refreshment.' He made a great show of mopping at his brow with a handkerchief, though it hardly seemed worth the effort.  
  
Of course, Fastred could not refuse such a commission, and he found he enjoyed doing his duty very much, even if he were merely holding one end of a handkerchief, while Elanor held the other end, as they went through the intricacies of the dance.  
  
As the dance ended, he bowed, she made her courtesy, and he offered his arm. 'May I find you some refreshment?' he asked politely.  
  
'Certainly,' she laughed. 'I'm famished!' He tucked her hand securely in at his elbow and led her to one of the long tables, laid out with food. Seeking her opinion, he artistically arranged a plate of food to please the eye, took up a cup, led her to a chair, and fanned her while she ate and drank.  
  
'Wherever did you learn your manners?' she asked him, cocking a mischievous eye. 'You are every inch a gentlehobbit, though my brother Frodo insists you are practically a ruffian.'  
  
'As a scion of one of the leading families of Greenholm, I was forced to endure dancing lessons, and instruction in deportment, and all sorts of other miseries,' he answered with a grin.  
  
'You poor lamb,' Elanor said with a pretty pout.  
  
'Ba-a-a-a-a,' Fastred replied.  
  
'Were you born in a barn?' Ferdi said, coming up behind him. 'Forgive me, Nell, for foisting this back-country sheep on you.'  
  
'His manners are improving with every day he spends at the Smials,' Elanor said with a wink to Fastred, which Ferdi pretended not to see, improper as it was for a young hobbit lass of good breeding.  
  
'We shall have to keep him a good long time, then,' the chancellor said. He extended his hand, Elanor took it, and he led her into the next dance, while Fastred stood watching.  
  
The Thain came up to him then, leading a hobbit lass who was evidently of age, for she'd been dancing with quite a few of the dashing young Tooks at the celebration. 'Phacelia,' he said, 'may I present Fastred of Greenholm?'  
  
Phacelia smiled and held out a slender hand. 'I am pleased to make your acquaintance,' she said.  
  
'At your service, and your family's,' Fastred replied, taking the fingers in his own. 'Would you care to dance, my lady?'  
  
'I do happen to have this dance free,' she said coyly, and took his arm. He led her into the dance, acquitting himself well as they danced and chatted of Tookland and Greenholm. He couldn't help imagining how it would feel to have Elanor's hand rest lightly on his arm, to place the palm of his hand against her back, to lead her through the figures, but of course, she was too young, yet, fated to dance with brothers or uncles or honorary uncles, even, not dashing young farmers from the border-land. It was small comfort that none of the eager Tooks was allowed to dance with her, either.  
  
At one point they passed Leotred dancing with another grown-up lass, and the brothers exchanged wry smiles, each knowing what the other was thinking.  
  
On Last Night, after the musicians retired for the night, the tweens and hobbits who had come of age but not yet married stayed up, talking of the year to come and their plans and dreams for the future, while roasting bacon and mushrooms on long sticks over the Yule log on the hearth. They talked and laughed and sang and ate until the dawn light came through the high windows, and the chancellor came into the room to shoo them off to their beds.  
  
'Out with you now,' Ferdi scolded good-naturedly. 'You've seen the old year out of the Smials, and welcomed the new, and now it is time to set up the tables for breakfast for all the sensible folk who sought their beds when you were just starting your talking and singing. Out!'  
  
Fastred had not heard much of what was said through the long hours, nor contributed much to the conversation. He was too busy watching a pair of fine eyes, that somehow often turned to meet his own.  
  
***  
  
While the Dove plied the open seas, most of her passengers stayed in their bunks, in misery as the ship danced from wave to towering wave, though there were a few exceptions. Legolas the elf was often found high in the rigging, breathing the salt air, helping the sailors set sails, or furl them, as ordered.  
  
Imrahil, coming of sea folk as he did, was not bothered by the motion of the ship, nor was his kinsman Elessar. The King of Haragost was quieter than usual for a few days, but then gained his sea legs and often walked the deck in the company of King Elessar, talking and learning.  
  
Gimli the dwarf never left his bunk, nor did the hobbits. Celandine, in her misery, wished that they might have made the long journey overland, however long it would have taken. She worried, too, about the children, who could hardly eat, though the sailors coaxed them and cosseted them and plied them with simple foods most likely to stay with them.  
  
One morning she awakened from nightmare to find the ship wondrously still, and she arose from her bunk to find a grinning Gimli, holding pitcher and basin, towel draped over one arm. 'Are we home?' she asked hopefully.  
  
'Nay, lass, but we've entered the mouth of the Baranduin River, and the Sea can no longer toss us like a cat with a mouse,' the dwarf boomed cheerily. ' 'Twill be a smooth ride from here.'  
  
Setting down the basin, he poured some of the water from the pitcher, then held out the towel to the hobbit mum. 'Splash your face, you'll feel better,' he said. She washed her face and arms and dried herself, ran a comb through her curls and pinned them up, then looked up at him beaming.  
  
'I feel a whole new hobbit!' she said.  
  
'Funny, you look just as pretty as ever,' the dwarf rumbled. 'Got a surprise for you.'  
  
'What's that?' Celandine asked.  
  
'The sailors know how to ply a needle,' the dwarf said, 'and if you go on deck, those fancy silks won't keep out the chill. They've cut up some blankets and made you all cloaks to wrap up in.' He held one out, and Celandine took it slowly, running her fingers over the thick, soft wool.  
  
'Here,' the dwarf said, taking it from her and settling it on her shoulders. 'Now you're ready to take the air.'  
  
'It's wonderful,' she said, 'better than any I've ever had, even in the Shire.'  
  
'I do believe they borrowed the blankets off the King's bed,' Gimli muttered, 'but don't tell anyone that I told you that. You need something good and thick, after living in the Southlands,' he went on, 'and those silken clothes will be all but useless, the further to the North that we sail.' He sniffed, then said, 'Would you care to take the air?'  
  
'I'd be happy to... but what about the children?' she said, looking around. The two bunks that had held her family, four hobbits in one and five in the other, were empty. Perhaps that was the root of her nightmare, sleeping alone in the large bed, her children mysteriously vanished.  
  
'Don't you worry about them, they're eating breakfast as we speak, and then they'll get cloaks of their own and take a turn on deck,' the dwarf said.  
  
'We're all becoming terribly spoilt, myself not excluded,' Celandine said with a smile.  
  
Gimli snorted. 'I highly doubt that,' he said loftily. 'A spoilt hobbit? I cannot imagine such a thing.' He held out his arm, and Celandine took it, and was happy to be escorted onto the deck, into the fresh air and sunshine. To one side, she could see the bank of the great River, and looking down through the railings, she knew she looked at waters that had flowed past her home not so many days ago.  
  
***  
  
'Which New Year, do you think?' Berilac said, as they sat in the Master's study. 'Ours? or theirs?'  
  
'It will take the ship some time to sail all the way from the Sunlands,' Merry said slowly. He pulled out a map, and he and Berilac bent over it, to trace the ship's journey from Haragost, across the Sea, to the mouth of the Brandywine, and all the way upriver.  
  
'Last Day is upon us; tomorrow will be First Day,' Merry said thoughtfully. 'I'd say closer to their New Year, but there's no way of telling.'  
  
'So they'll just show up on the doorstep, like abandoned kittens in a basket?' Berilac said.  
  
Merry shook his head. 'I do not think so.'  
  
'What do you think, then?' his steward said.  
  
'I think that when they reach Sarn, the King will dispatch a messenger, up the Old South Road, as swift as can be. Riding hard, changing horses at every outpost, he'd be faster than any ship, and would give us some warning.'  
  
'Well, no need to wait upon the messenger,' Berilac said, stroking his chin with a thoughtful hand. 'I do think we ought to begin preparations for the celebration today, even.'  
  
Merry laughed, though there was still an ache deep inside, when he allowed himself to remember that they were welcoming three, not nine, home again. 'Then you had better get right on it,' he said. 'We don't want to be caught napping.'  
  



	28. Oh Glorious Day, Longedfor Time

Note to Readers:   
  
*satisfied sigh* Ah, those faithful reviews, thank you so much. The Muse has come out of her snit and pushed me out of the hole that the waggon wheel was stuck in, over in "Flames". Look for the next chapter there tomorrow...  
  
Xena, Ferdi certainly can be devious. Wonder if he is devious enough to splash a bit of water on his brow, in order to wipe it off, or if he thinks mopping his (dry) brow enough of a dissimilation. And yes, quite the celebration; Yuletide was a big time. I imagine some stretched it out even longer if they could get away with it. Gimli action figure! You made me laugh. Don't forget the braid-able beard and accessory kit with ribbons and little hobbits...  
  
Sunhawk, always nice to see you. I think Merry appreciates your sympathy, as well... he said something to that effect over tea this very day...  
  
Bookworm, it's gonna be great when they see all nine are there...  
  
Aemilia Rose, I'm updating again. Is this soon enough?  
  
Runaround, your comments are very welcome. If the comments dry up, so does the writing...  
  
Now for the... gentle let-down... real life is intruding heavily upon writing, and I am down to a chapter a day, not a chapter per story per day, mind... So I have decided to start alternating posts, one day "Flames", the next day "Merlin" and back and forth. I got to writing so fast and furiously in "Merlin" that "Flames" kind of got shoved by the wayside and the writing in that story is going slowly... needing more time for thinking, which takes time away from editing already-written Merlin chapters for posting. So sorry. Hope it won't put your nose out of joint too much.  
  
I have not added a new chapter to "Flames", in case you are following that story, but look for it tomorrow. And thank you for your patience.  
  
***  
  
**28. Oh Glorious Day, Longed-for Time**  
  
Ferdibrand and the Thain, between them, kept Fastred quite occupied each day, at least up until teatime, when Pippin insisted the workday must end.  
  
He and Leotred were never at loose ends at teatime; either they were invited to take tea with the Mayor and his family, or with the chancellor or the steward, with their families of course, and a few times, they joined the Thain and Mistress at tea.  
  
Ferdibrand had quite a large family, Fastred found when first invited to join them, and he was a bit taken aback as the introductions began, for after the chancellor introduced his wife ("my Nell, the light of my life"), he introduced his oldest son as "Rudivar Bolger".  
  
The tween bristled at Fastred's look of surprise, and his father laughed, saying, 'Now, Rudi, they will take you for a Took if you're not careful to govern that temper better.'  
  
The lad flushed and ducked his head, saying, 'Yes, Da.'   
  
Leotred put Rudi at ease by saying, 'Fas understands. He's been working on his temper for years...'  
  
As it turned out, about half of Ferdi's brood bore the name "Bolger", though they all referred to the chancellor as "Da", and there was no sorting them into Bolgers and Tooks by degrees of affection between the children and Ferdibrand.  
  
Ferdi seemed as likely to adopt Fastred and Leotred, from the attention he showed them, Fastred in particular, for they were with each other through the day. They rode out on surveys or errands for the Thain, or spent long hours in the study. At first, Fastred chafed at being "cooped up" in a stuffy room filled with papers and books, but as he learned more about the running of Tookland, he became interested in spite of himself.  
  
One day, he was in the study alone when Leotred came in with a message from Healer Woodruff for the Thain. 'I'll take it,' he said, looking up from his work.  
  
'Fas,' his brother said, surprised, 'You're writing!' He looked at the work, 'and in a fair hand!'  
  
'Don't look so surprised,' Fastred said. 'If it is not in a fair hand I will only have to do it over.' He bent to his work again. 'Just let me finish this report,' he said. 'I'm nearly done.'  
  
Leotred settled on the edge of the desk and watched, nodding in satisfaction as his brother finished the last line and blotted the page.  
  
'I always thought you hated writing,' Leot said.  
  
'I did, but Ferdi told me...' Fastred flushed.  
  
'What?'  
  
'You'll think it silly,' he said.  
  
'Tell me,' Leotred said. 'I don't think anything Ferdi's taught us has been "silly", do you? O he enjoys a good jest, but...'  
  
'He told me that writing is like a hunt, only instead of capturing a bird or coney, you are capturing your thoughts... chasing your prey across the paper with the nib of your pen.' He chuckled. 'It's even got fletching, like an arrow, if you want to look at it that way.'  
  
Leotred looked at the quill and laughed. 'I never looked at it that way before.'  
  
'So now, every report is a chase,' Fastred said, 'and I have the satisfaction of knowing I can't miss. This bird may dodge, but my trusty shaft will follow it and bring it down.' He picked the paper up and set it on the chancellor's desk. 'There. Now what was your message?'  
  
Leotred told him, and he nodded.  
  
'Don't you want to write it down?' his brother asked.  
  
Fastred tapped his temple. 'It's right here,' he said, and repeated the message back to his brother word-for-word.  
  
'Don't tell me,' Leotred said. 'Ferdi's been training your memory as well as your hand.'  
  
'It's another game,' Fastred said. 'He makes things so easy, Leot, you would not believe it.'  
  
'I believe it,' Leotred said dryly. 'Perhaps you'd like to switch places, you go with Woodruff for a day or three, and I go with Ferdi.'  
  
'Not on your life! What did you do today?' Fastred asked.  
  
Leotred sobered. 'Took a leg off,' he said. 'It was badly broken; Woodruff said there was no point in trying to save it, when it would only be a useless drag.'  
  
Fastred shuddered. 'And you'd like to switch places? I don't think so, baby brother.'  
  
Leotred stood. 'Well, I must get back to Woodruff. I'm going to learn how to make up a tincture, or decoction, or something to that effect.'  
  
'Think of it as capturing a bird,' Fastred suggested. 'That might make it more interesting.'  
  
'O it's interesting enough, brother, it's just that I am not sure there is much more room in my head for all the knowledge Woodruff's trying to spoon in.'  
  
***  
  
That afternoon, the Thain looked out the window. 'Spring is here, and no mistake,' he said. 'Wonder when the Dove is due to arrive in Buckland?'  
  
'No message yet from Merry, I take it,' Regi said. They were allowing him to spend an hour or two at work these days, no more, but even that little bit was enough to cheer him.  
  
'Not yet,' Pippin said. 'It will be New Year's next week; I think the ship was due about that time.'  
  
Fastred reminded himself that the Gondorian New Year started on the 25th of March, the day the Ring had gone into the Fire. He heard a part of the story each evening by the fireside in the great room after late supper.  
  
'O I nearly forgot, Fas,' Ferdi said then. 'The Mayor wished to invite you and Leot to take tea with them this afternoon. Seems they're going on a picnic, this being the first really fine day of the year.'  
  
'Thank you, Sir,' Fastred said, as the chancellor twinkled at him.  
  
'Give Nell my regards,' he said. 'I do believe the Mayor and his family are leaving for Hobbiton on the morrow.'  
  
'O?' Fastred said, his heart beating a little faster. Elanor, leaving the Smials?  
  
'Yes, but I have asked Nell to stay and help my Nell for a bit longer,' Ferdi said. 'The Mayor, of course, must needs travel about the Shire to open this festival or that celebration, but Nell and Rosie-lass need a bit of quiet, yet, and will be staying in the Smials.'  
  
'Ah,' Fastred said, for want of any other words.  
  
'Will Mayor Sam be going to Buckland for the New Year's celebration?' Reginard asked.  
  
'Yes,' Pippin answered, 'as will I, for I am hoping to greet the Dove, if only to honour Celandine's memory.' He shook his head. 'I cannot believe she's gone.'  
  
'Little Blossom will be nearly a year old by the time the ship docks,' Regi said softly. He thought of his own babe, safely born shortly after he'd returned from Greenholm, and how he'd feel to have her torn away, taken off to a foreign land, and not returned until her first birthday.  
  
'Well,' the Thain said briskly, 'this isn't getting the work done. Teatime is upon us!' They quickly finished the last few items on the list for the day, and Pippin pushed himself back from his desk with a stretch and a yawn.  
  
'Enjoy your picnic,' he said to Fastred. 'I just might take a page out of Mayor Sam's book and take my own family out to the hills...' He gave Regi a sharp glance. 'You, on the other hand, are overdue for a nap.'  
  
'Nag, nag, nag,' Reginard said pleasantly. 'I am on my way.' He rose slowly from his chair, nodded to the Thain, and walked out of the room.  
  
The hills were green and fresh, dotted with wildflowers in bright white, yellow, pink and blue. Mistress Rose and her daughters spread out blankets and unpacked the food, and then all fell to with good appetite. Afterwards, the Mayor and his wife lay down on the blankets to watch the fleecy clouds blow by whilst the younger ones gathered flowers and braided them into chains.  
  
Fastred found himself wandering with Elanor, picking each flower she pointed to, until she had woven a lovely crown.  
  
His attention was diverted, however, by the sight of two tiny figures crawling up the steep hillside that contained the Great Smials, a third creeping behind. 'Whatever are they doing?' he said. 'That hill is too steep for them to be rolling down again.'  
  
'O they are not hill-rolling,' Elanor said. 'They are playing at "Frodo-and-Sam", you know.'  
  
'Frodo and Sam? You mean the story?' Fastred said.  
  
'Yes,' Elanor replied. 'No one wants to be Gollum, of course, so they must take turns.' She smiled as the two toiling figures pretended not to see the third that followed.  
  
'They do not know the whole story, of course,' she went on softly. 'It is too dark for children.'  
  
'What?' Fastred said curiously. Elanor sat down upon the ground, patting the grass beside her.  
  
'Sit, and I'll tell you some of the tale you haven't heard before,' she said.  
  
Fastred heard of the terrible pull of the Ring, how brave Boromir was tainted by its spell until he tried to wrest the terrible Thing from the Ring-bearer. He heard how none of the wise dared touch the Ring, for fear of being turned from light into darkness. And he heard, at the end, how Frodo himself was overcome...  
  
Shaken, he said, 'They never told us that before. They never told us that Frodo was taken.'  
  
'It is too frightening for the children to hear,' Elanor said softly. 'When they are grown, and know how easy it is to fail, to fall, there's time enough to tell them the whole of the tale.'  
  
'I must be too young, yet,' Fastred said softly. 'I do not think it easy to fall...'  
  
'Don't you?' Elanor said, looking deep into his eyes, and suddenly he found himself drawn forward, leaning closer.  
  
'There you are!' Merry's laughing voice sounded. 'Don't you have enough flowers gathered, yet?'  
  
'No, I don't, little brother,' Elanor said pertly, 'so why don't you go off and find me some fine ones with long stems.'  
  
'Hah, I think Fas ought to do that, he's the hunter,' Merry said.  
  
'Fastred is helping me,' Elanor said with dignity. Funny, how all in the Smials had adopted his family's easy way with his name, while Elanor still insisted on pronouncing it, not cutting it short, rather, caressing the name as she spoke it. Or so it felt to Fastred.  
  
'Helping you what?' Merry said, crouching down.  
  
'Never you mind, little brother.'  
  
'Frodo wouldn't like it,' Merry said teasingly.  
  
'Wouldn't like what?' Elanor said.  
  
'If he weren't so busy tagging after Leot and Rosie, he'd be telling you what's what this very minute,' Merry said.  
  
Elanor gave an exasperated sigh. 'I know what's what,' she said, 'better than you do, my boy. Now run along and play.'  
  
'Don't say I didn't warn you!' Merry sang over his shoulder as he left them.  
  
'Where were we?' Fastred said.  
  
'I do believe... we were talking about...' Elanor's voice trailed off.  
  
Fastred looked into her eyes again. He'd had the thought, many the time, since meeting her, that one could drown in those eyes. The colour of the Sea they were, or the Sea as his father had described it to him...   
  
_I shall take you to see it someday, lad, for it is a sight every hobbit ought to see, at least once before he dies._ Fastred's father had been more adventurous than most, and when he made his way out west, he went all the way to the Sea, before turning back to help add to the community of Greenholm.   
  
...the colour of the Sea, blue and sparkling sometimes, grey, dark, and mysterious at others, and sometimes changeable green, either in mood of mischief or in anger. At the moment he couldn't quite name their colour.  
  
'I could spend the rest of my entire lifetime looking into those eyes,' he said to himself, and when Elanor chuckled, he realised he'd spoken aloud.  
  
'Could you?' she whispered. He was drawn forward, and their lips met, blended, accepted one another, and now he was truly drowning, until a sudden clear call jerked him awake and aware.  
  
'Merry! Where's your sister? We're packing up.'  
  
He pulled back, to hear a furious voice quite near.  
  
'Just what do you think you're doing?'  
  
'Frodo!' Elanor said. 'It's perfectly reasonable...'  
  
'O?' Frodo said, coming up to them, eyes flashing.  
  
'Yes, I had something in my eye, and asked Fastred if he could see it...' Elanor said, and Fastred stared at her in astonishment.  
  
'Funny, that's not how it looked to me!' Frodo retorted, his fists clenched.  
  
Fastred found his voice. 'You do not think I would dishonour your sister by taking liberties, do you?'  
  
'I...' Frodo said, looking from one to the other.   
  
Elanor put a hand to her eye, blinking, then said, 'There, that's better. I think it's come out, now.'  
  
'Good,' Fastred said. Clambering to his feet, he extended a hand to Elanor, only to have Frodo close the distance between them and knock his hand away.  
  
'_You_ go and help pack up,' he said to Fastred. '_I_ shall escort my sister back to the Smials.  
  
'As you wish,' Fastred said mildly. Elanor kept her eyes down, but as Frodo led her away, Fastred could still see her smile.  
  
The next day, Frodo stuck to his sister like a cockleburr to a pony's tail, and Fastred could not get a private word with her to save his life. News had come in the night, that the Dove was due to dock at Brandy Hall three days hence, so the Mayor put off the trip to Hobbiton, opting instead to stay over one more day at the Smials before leaving for Buckland with his family and the Thain's. Thus, there was a grand tea in the great room on the eve of departure.  
  
The Mayor's family and the chancellor's sat mingled, and Fastred found himself opposite Elanor and a glowering Frodo. For the most part, Elanor kept her eyes on her plate, but at one point, when Ferdi had distracted Frodo with a question, she looked up, her gaze pouring directly into Fastred's eyes.  
  
'Yes,' she said with a firm nod, then sought her plate once more.  
  
'What was that, my lass?' Mayor Sam said to his eldest daughter.  
  
'O... I was just thinking aloud, Father,' she said, taking a dainty bite of tea sandwich.  
  
Fastred sat transfixed a moment, but he wanted to chortle and shout and jump up from his chair, dance atop the table, sing out the news for all of Middle-earth to hear. Elanor had said "Yes"!  
  
He contented himself with saying, 'Would you care for another cup of tea, Mistress Rose?'  
  
...while the chancellor's eyes moved from Rose to Fastred with a satisfied look.  
  
***  
  
'Everything's ready?' Merry asked Berilac as they stood on the banks of the River, watching the white-sailed Dove approach the dock.  
  
'For the seventh time, yes, cousin, everything is ready as can be,' his steward answered good-humouredly. His eyes darkened slightly at the sight of Berimas, Doderic and Ilberic standing arm-in-arm at the Ferry dock, waiting for the first sight of the restored children. He gave a sigh, and Merry did not have to ask what he was thinking. The Master of Buckland was also mourning Celandine and the rest of her children, in the midst of the anticipated joy.  
  
Estella came forward, her son holding one hand and her daughter the other. 'The feast is laid,' she said, 'the loaves have just come out of the oven, the roast is done to perfection, and the wine is breathing on the sideboard.'  
  
'And the salad?' Merry asked absently, his eyes on the ship.  
  
'Cook will add the dressing and toss it at the last moment, as the guests are seating themselves,' she answered.  
  
'Sounds as if we're ready, then,' the Master said, and Berilac exchanged an exasperated glance with his assistant, Doderas.  
  
'Quite ready,' Estella said, catching her breath. She crouched down to talk to the children. 'There's the ship,' she said unnecessarily, pointing. 'Do you have your banners ready?' There was a chorus of assent, as the children waved the bright cloths in their hands; others picked up the movement and soon the shore was a sea of brightly coloured, fluttering cloth.  
  
A cheer swelled as the Dove came into the dock and was made fast. The hobbits of Buckland could see several tall figures at the rail, King Elessar they recognised, and Legolas the elf. A shorter figure stepped up, evidently standing upon a box or stool, and cheers arose for Gimli the dwarf. There were a few little fingers pointed in wonder at the tall, dark figure in bright silks standing next to the King, before the hobbit mums pushed the hands down and reminded their little ones that it wasn't polite to point.  
  
'But... where are the children?' Estella said, then answered her own question. 'O, there, I see now...' A sailor lifted a tiny body in bright silks up, to be able to see and be seen over the rail.  
  
'Poppy,' Berimas gasped, as Doderic's grasp on his arm tightened. Another little form, and he said, 'Larkspur... I think... but would she have grown so tall? That looks more like Meadowsweet.'  
  
Another sailor raised up another little form, and Berimas would have fallen had Ilberic and Doderic not held him firm. '_That's_ Larkspur,' he whispered. 'But...'  
  
The cheering crowd fell silent as a fourth, then a fifth hobbit was lifted. The ship was being made fast, the gangway was being extended from ship to dock, and a sixth head appeared above the rail.  
  
'Berilas,' the father hobbit sobbed. Alyssium appeared next, and then...  
  
'Celandine,' Doderic and Ilberic breathed together. The hobbit mum held a tiny one in her arms, ducked her chin to speak in the tiny one's ear, and little Blossom waved her fat little hand at the crowd.  
  
'Bah-bah!' Berilas shouted, wriggling in excitement, and would have fallen over the rail but for the sailor's firm grip. 'Bah-bah!'  
  
Berimas stumbled on to the dock, the little figures disappeared from the rail, and soon bright hobbit butterflies were fluttering down the gangplank, to surround Berimas in a swirl of celebration.  
  
'They're all here...' Merry breathed, while Pippin came up to him and pounded him on the back.  
  
'However did they manage? I thought only three were rescued!' the Thain laughed.  
  
Merry met his eyes, threw his arms about him and the Master and Thain did a little dance of joy, their children laughing, joining hands to make a dancing circle around them. Pippin and Merry then turned to their wives, pulled them into the dance as the glad cheer swelled.  
  
The two kings watched the little people's joyful riot in complete satisfaction.  
  
Finally, the Master and Thain broke free from the dance and approached the little family on the dock. Tears were running down the faces of many of the hobbits. Berimas knelt, arms full of children, his wife at his side. He looked up at the Master.  
  
'They've all come back,' he said unnecessarily.  
  
'I know,' Merry replied. He looked up at the ship, to the waiting Men. 'Shall we?' he said to the Thain.  
  
'I really think we must,' Pippin said in reply. He stepped past the reuniting family and walked lightly up the gangplank to greet the King.  
  
'Hail and well met, Strider,' he said.  
  
'Strider?' the King of Haragost said curiously.  
  
'An old term of affection,' Elessar said. 'We were friends before I became King.'  
  
'Would you care to set aside your edict for a day, or perhaps three, seeing as how the New Year celebration is the day after tomorrow?' Pippin asked. 'The feast is laid, and the Master invites you to partake of the hospitality of the Hall.'  
  
'Since it is the Thain who invites me, I will set aside my edict, for today, tomorrow, and the next day,' Elessar replied solemnly.  
  
'Does this mean...?' the King of Haragost asked excitedly.  
  
'Yes, my friend, it means exactly that,' Elessar said. 'You may set foot upon the soil of the Halflings, at their invitation, for the next few days. A rare privilege, let me tell you.'  
  
'Better make it four days,' Merry said, coming up behind, 'for no one will be worth a brass farthing after staying up to watch the fireworks and feast until the dawn.'  
  
'Four days?' Elessar said, looking to Pippin for permission.  
  
'Very well, four days,' the Thain answered, after a pause for consideration. 'Just don't make a habit of it.'


	29. Welcome Joyous Festal Day

Note to Readers:   
  
The Muse was quite cheerful last night and wrote a chapter and a half of "Flames". Now if I can just get her to look at "Merlin" again, fill in the missing material that comes before the already-finished chapters awaiting posting... (coaxing voice: "O Muse! :::waving pina colada vaguely, as if not knowing what to do with it::: Musie, dear!")  
  
Xena, very thoughtful review. I think you're right about Ferdi, he is nothing if not thorough. And yes, Ferdi is multi-talented. You know, I really think he could have made a great Thain, had the succession passed down to him, had he not burned down the old Thain's stables... pardon me, _nearly_ burned down the stables. I keep forgetting... It was actually not Sam's kids playing Frodo-and-Sam but some others from the Smials. Sam's kids were all gathering flowers on a hillside a little ways away, but still within sight of that huge hill. And yes, Merry is fussy. He gets that way when he's trying not to think of Dark things. I am glad you saw pictures in your head. That is what happens when I read the stories of my favourite writers.  
  
Sunhawk, Aratfeniel, eiluj, happy to be of service.  
   
Bookworm, will miss you. Hope you have a good time.  
  
Hai, welcome back! Yes, Legolas is going to visit his cousins.  
  
Runaround, your comments are very welcome. If the comments dry up, so does the writing...  
  
Look for a new chapter to this story, if all goes well, in two days.  
  
Look for the newest chapter to "Flames", in case you are following that story, on the morrow. And thank you for your patience.  
  
***  
  
**29. Welcome Joyous Festal Day**  
  
The king of Haragost followed Elessar's lead, going to one knee to address the Halflings eye-to-eye.  
  
'Thain Peregrin, if I may present Ha'alas, the king of Haragost,' Elessar said. He had worked out the thorny problem of introductions while on the ship, whom to present to whom in order to offend nobody; though he knew the hobbits would make allowances, he also knew that their social structure was well-defined.  
  
'At your service,' King Ha'alas said with a broad grin; he had been studying the little people's customs and found them fascinating.  
  
'And your family's,' the Thain said with a bow of his own, then added, 'King Ha'alas, allow me to present my cousin, Meriadoc Brandybuck, Master of Buckland.'  
  
Merry bowed, saying, 'At your service.'   
  
The king returned the proper response, adding, 'Profuse apologies, Master, for the ignorance that led to the abduction of your people. We of Haragost are deeply shamed and seek to make reparations, poor as they are...'  
  
Merry started to protest, but Elessar caught Pippin's eye and shook his head ever so slightly; Pippin touched his cousin's elbow, and Merry subsided.  
  
'I thank you for the safe return of my cousin and her children,' was all he said, and Ha'alas nodded.  
  
'It was not my doing,' he said. 'I could not save them, but for the actions of some of my subjects, who were brave and bold in the face of grave danger to themselves.'  
  
Merry did not like the sound of this, but he smiled and returned the nod.  
  
Although it seemed as if Berimas could not get enough of his family, eventually others waiting on the bank were able to add their own hugs and greetings.  
  
Gimli watched the process from the railing. 'How long do you suppose this will go on?' he asked idly.  
  
'At least until the hobbits become hungry,' Legolas said practically. 'I'm sure the Mistress of Buckland will take charge of feeding everyone... didn't Pippin say something about the feast being ready?'  
  
The dwarf grunted in reply, and the Thain, overhearing, turned to them and called, 'Gimli! Legolas! I ought to have known the two of you would be mixed in with this.'  
  
'I did receive a message that I would not be allowed back in the Shire without the missing hobbits,' Legolas said, smiling. 'So here they are.'  
  
'Fine,' Pippin said. 'You may join us at the feast.' He frowned at Gimli. 'I'm not so sure about the dwarf, of course...'  
  
'You forget, your family adopted me and I am now a hobbit,' Gimli said. 'The elf, too, though he's a bit too tall for the role.'  
  
Legolas laughed and Pippin grinned. 'We'll soon cut him down to size,' the Thain quipped. 'Had any good games of Kings, lately?'  
  
'Not since leaving the Shire,' Legolas answered. 'But then, you invented the game, didn't you?'  
  
'Hobbits did,' Pippin said.  
  
'He just invents new strategies to confound his opponents,' Merry said. 'Nobody will play with him anymore... he's been looking forward to your return, Legolas.'  
  
'Kings?' Ha'alas said. 'But I have learned this game from the little mother.' He bowed to the Thain. 'I would be most happy to accommodate you in your desire for a game.'  
  
Merry laughed. 'You don't know what you are letting yourself in for,' he said, but Pippin inclined his head gravely with thanks.  
  
As Legolas had predicted, the Mistress of Buckland let the greetings go on just so long, then put her foot down, nudging Berilac. 'Food'll go cold!' the steward shouted, cupping his hands about his mouth to be heard above the happy bustle.  
  
'We cannot have that,' the Thain said. 'If your majesties will accompany us...'  
  
'Gladly,' Elessar said. 'Ha'alas...?' Arm in arm the two kings followed the hobbits down to the dock.  
  
The feast was all that hobbits could make it, which was quite a bit, and the Big People thought they might perhaps have to stop eating for a week afterwards, or at least seek a quiet place for a long nap.  
  
After the feast, King Ha'alas insisted that they go back to the dock, to supervise the unloading of the ship, the delivery of the "reparations" that could not begin to make amends for his crime, in his humblest of opinions.  
  
'Very polite, these Southrons,' Pippin whispered to Elessar.  
  
The King nodded, whispering back, 'Yes, right up to the time they take your head off.' The Thain's eyes widened, and Elessar nodded soberly. 'This one's young, still, so we might be able to have some influence on him.' He smiled grimly as Pippin turned to whisper to Merry, sure that the presents would be properly received, and Ha'alas would not be insulted by an attempt to reject them.  
  
A procession of boxes and trunks and barrels began to descend to the bank, as the hobbits watched, their astonishment growing.  
  
Ha'alas sprang to open a trunk, revealing gold coins filling it to the brim.  
  
'I paid for the hobbits, their weight in gold, to those evil ones who sold them as animals,' he said. 'Here is their ransom.'  
  
'More gold,' the Thain said in dismay, then pasted on a bright smile for the king of Haragost. 'Very generous,' he said. He bit back the words, _You shouldn't have_, fearing that the pleasantry would be misconstrued by this dangerous Southron.  
  
'He wanted to pay back twenty times our weight in gold, something to do with his Law, but I talked him down to ten,' Celandine laughed, leaning her head against the arm of the king of Haragost. He smiled down at her.  
  
'I would have made it an hundred,' he said, 'and it would not have been enough.'  
  
'What will you do with the gold, Cellie?' Merry asked, bemused.  
  
'Give it to the Thain, of course,' she said promptly. Pippin choked and went into a coughing fit, needing a fair amount of back-slapping before he straightened again. Celandine took pity on him. 'For the widows and orphans, you know,' she said. 'I know you've been providing for them from your own hoard all these years, ever since you became Thain.'  
  
'From my father's, actually,' Pippin said. 'Much easier to spend his gold than my own.' Everyone laughed, for Pippin was not known for his ability to accumulate gold. He was too busy finding reason to spend it, for the benefit of the Shire.  
  
'What is all this?' Berimas murmured to his wife, nodding to the growing profusion of cargo on the bank.  
  
Celandine turned to him with a smile. 'I am afraid, my love, that we are embarrassingly rich,' she answered, opening one of the trunks to reveal lengths of richly-hued silk. 'King Ha'alas and his people kept showering us with more and more, and I hadn't the heart to say no.' As a matter of fact, she was wondering if the weight of it all would founder the Dove, but happily, they had made it safely over the Sea and up the Brandywine without incident. She brightened. 'Think of the wondrous birthday presents we'll be able to give!' _For the rest of our lives, and our children's, and our children's children's_ she whispered, and her husband laughed, pulling her to himself again for a long kiss and hug.  
  
'O my love,' he said, and stopped, at a loss for words, but she snuggled under his arm, looking up at him, eyes full.  
  
'I know,' she whispered, and the young king of Haragost, watching, wiped a tear from his own eye.  
  
'He seems over-young to be the king of a country,' Pippin whispered to Legolas at one point, indicating Ha'alas.  
  
'It is a long story, and I will tell you... later,' the elf whispered back. Remembering Elessar's warning, the Thain nodded.  
  
It was a grand four days, filled with feasting and singing, dancing and story-telling. The New Year's celebration was even grander than the last time the King had celebrated with Master, Mayor, and Thain, the fireworks continuing for more than an hour, followed by feasting, dancing and singing until the dawn.  
  
The fourth day was taken up with recovering from the previous day's celebration, and on the Big People's part, packing up and preparing to go aboard ship for the return journey, on the part of the crew of the Dove, or to go on to Fornost, on the part of Elessar, Ha'alas, and the King's Guard.  
  
'The Queen and the rest of my family will be joining us in the summer,' Elessar said in parting to the Thain. 'I do hope you will be able to visit us at the Lake,' he added.  
  
'I shall make every effort,' Pippin answered, 'but with this new commission of yours, I do not know if I will find the time.'  
  
Elessar laughed. 'You'll find the time,' he said. 'You probably have all the details worked out already.' He fixed Pippin with a steady look. 'I expect to hear the results of the survey by midsummer.'  
  
Pippin laughed. 'How did you know I was sending folk out to make a survey as soon as I return to Tookland?' Elessar joined him in laughing, and the two embraced before the King turned to take his leave of the Mayor and Master.  
  
***  
  
On his return to the Great Smials, Pippin called Ferdibrand to ride with him, out to the hills, in the spring sunshine. When they were well away, he reined in his pony to speak.  
  
'Ferdi, the King is seriously thinking of granting the Westmarch to the Shire,' Pippin said.  
  
'The _whole_ of it?' Ferdibrand asked, astounded. In his mind's eye, he could see the map spread out before him. 'It's as big as Buckland!'  
  
'Or bigger,' the Thain agreed. 'And there's going to have to be a Master of the Westmarch, or at least a Warden...'  
  
'I can see that,' Ferdi said, after a moment of consideration. 'Whom did you have in mind?'  
  
'As I've considered, one name keeps popping to the fore,' Pippin said. Ferdi became aware that the keen eyes were scrutinising him closely. 'Ferdi... these past months, you've done Regi's work as well as your own...'  
  
'You're going to send Reginard, then?' Ferdi asked, '...seeing as how you can spare him?'  
  
'No,' Pippin said, shaking his head. 'I'm going to send you.' He waited for Ferdi to get over his open-mouthed astonishment. 'That is, if you'll go...'  
  
'If I'll go...' Ferdibrand said. He thought again of the view from the Far Downs, the fair land spread out, wild and unsettled, full of promise, and a slow grin began to light his face.  
  
'Is that a yes?' Pippin said, and Ferdi nodded, his grin brightening.  
  
'Yes!' he said with enthusiasm, but caution checked him.  
  
'What?' Pippin asked.  
  
'That is, if my Nell will go,' he said.  
  
'I think we might be able to persuade her,' Pippin said with a grin of his own. 'After all, I remember her being disappointed that she wasn't born a lad, after Ferumbras tapped Paladin to be Thain...'  
  
'I'm certainly glad she wasn't,' Ferdi said fervently, and Pippin laughed.  
  
'I'm sure you are,' he said, and leaned back in his saddle, eyes going to the sky. 'Mistress of Westmarch...' he mused. 'Got a kind of a ring to it...'  
  
Ferdi laughed, and his cousin looked back to him again. 'You know why it's "Mistress and Thain" and not "Mister and Thain", don't you?' Pippin said wickedly.  
  
'No, I hadn't heard that tale,' Ferdi said.  
  
'Well, Bucca of the Marish, his wife was actually the first Thain, you know,' Pippin said, the storyteller's lilt creeping into his voice. 'But she got so annoyed at her husband's grumbling that one day, she threw up her hands and said, "Well, if you can do any better, you're welcome to try!" '  
  
Both hobbits burst into loud guffaws, having heard similar sentiments expressed on more than one occasion.  
  
Finally, wiping his eyes, Pippin said, '...and Thains down through the ages have been regretting it ever since.'  
  
'How's that?' Ferdi asked.  
  
'Well, just think on it. If Diamond were Thain, I wouldn't be stuck behind that desk day in and day out, I could take off and go fishing whenever I cared to.'  
  
'No you wouldn't,' Ferdi said shrewdly. 'She'd probably have you out digging holes in the hot Sun.'  
  
Pippin sighed. 'You're probably right,' he admitted. 'Well, we must take our blessings as they come, mustn't we?'


	30. The Lively Hunt is All My Heart's Desire

Note to Readers:   
  
The Muse was quite cheerful last night and wrote a chapter and a half of "Flames". Now if I can just get her to look at "Merlin" again, fill in the missing material that comes before the already-finished chapters awaiting posting... (coaxing voice: "O Muse! :::waving pina colada vaguely, as if not knowing what to do with it::: Musie, dear!")  
  
Xena, excellent comments, I am very encouraged. Thank you for your kind words about Gimli. I do think there is a heart of gold under that gruff exterior, and since being adopted by hobbits he's probably mellowed a bit more. He fits right in with the Tooks, on second thought.  
  
FantasyFan, you're welcome, and then some. Must turn around and thank *you* for the thoughtful reviews you send my way. Y'know, sometimes I feel like a hobbit... just a little taller than average (short for a Big Person, tho).  
  
Hai, you're most wolcome, and thanks for the encouragement.  
  
Runaround, you noticed! Cannot say anything about that at present, watch this space for developments...  
  
Look for a new chapter to this story, if all goes well, in two days. Unfortunately, angst is about to re-enter the scene, if not today, then soon. Warning: breakers ahead!  
  
Look for the newest chapter to "Flames", in case you are following that story, on the morrow. And thank you for your patience.  
  
***  
  
**30. The Lively Hunt is All My Heart's Desire**  
  
'So what is this King of Haragost like, anyhow?' Reginard asked. 'You haven't said much about him. He went to the Lake with Elessar?'  
  
'Yes,' Pippin replied. 'He seemed to enjoy his time at Brandy Hall. Very jolly type, likes to laugh and sing and eat...'  
  
'Ah,' Regi said. 'Sounds like a pleasant enough fellow.'  
  
Pippin remembered Elessar's warning. 'Perhaps,' he said cautiously. 'We'll see him again in a few months. Elessar will be doing an inspection tour of his outposts along the Bounds of the Shire, and we'll probably meet up with him in Greenholm.'  
  
'You're going back to Greenholm?' Regi asked. 'Have they been having more trouble with ruffians?'  
  
'No, none at all, thankfully,' the Thain answered. 'But I'd like to take another look at the Far Downs and the Westmarch.' He looked seriously at the steward. 'Will you be well enough to manage things here, with both myself and Ferdibrand gone?'  
  
Reginard bristled. 'I'm well,' he protested, then reconsidered. 'Nearly well,' he amended. 'I move a little slower these days, perhaps.'  
  
'Don't we all?' Pippin asked wryly. He was not that old, middle-aged by hobbit standards, but he did not enjoy the seemingly inexhaustible energy he'd had in his youth. Still, he had a long way to go before he was a gaffer, if no more trolls fell on him in the meantime.  
  
The Thain had not told anyone but Ferdibrand about the King's contemplated action. He was not all that sure he wanted to add so much more territory to the Shire, truth be told. Responsibility already weighed heavily on his shoulders. Still, it was worth consideration, especially if he could find someone trustworthy to oversee the new farthing.  
  
He took a deep breath. Farthing it was, indeed, as big as the biggest farthing they already had. What would it be called? They already had a West Farthing. Westmarch, he supposed, was as good a name as any.  
  
He wanted to survey the sweep of new land before meeting with the King at Mid-year, and he had several teams of hobbits in mind for the task, with Ferdibrand, of course, in charge of the endeavor.  
  
So it was, in the second week of April, that Ferdibrand and a group of hobbits set out for Greenholm. Speculation was rife about the Smials, but no one guessed the real reason for their journey, so far as the Thain heard.  
  
Even Diamond asked in vain. 'You're sending Ferdi off? Alone?'  
  
'He's not alone,' Pippin answered. 'He's taking a horde of hobbits with him.'  
  
'I noticed,' Diamond said. 'All the best and brightest of the young hobbits in the Smials, and the two from Greenholm, plus the Mayor's oldest son, who just happens to be working for Ferdi at the moment, though I think his real reason for staying is to keep himself between the Greenholm hobbits and his sisters... Does Samwise know about this?'  
  
'No,' said Pippin. 'Nor does Merry, so don't go trying to pry it out of Estella in your next letter.'  
  
'Very mysterious,' Diamond said. 'You're not usually one to keep a secret.'  
  
'Thought I'd try it on for a change,' Pippin said, 'seeing as how I've never done it before.'  
  
'Hah,' Diamond said.  
  
'I'm very open and honest!' her husband protested.  
  
'O really?' Diamond retorted. 'What about...?' Pippin was rescued from this uncomfortable place by the wakening of the youngest members of the family, demanding their tea.  
  
***  
  
Pippin received regular reports, and when each arrived he closeted himself in his study with Reginard, for long discussions. The two alternated between apprehension and elation, considering the reports of the richness of the land, and its scope.  
  
April passed into May, then June arrived. Mayor Samwise and his family came to open the annual Tookland Pony Races, and Mayor Sam was a little startled to find his son gone.  
  
'Off to Greenholm?' he said. 'Why didn't you tell me?'  
  
Pippin cleared his throat. 'I thought he wrote you to that effect,' he said. 'He was supposed to, anyhow.'  
  
'Was he really?' the Mayor asked sceptically. He'd always had a sense for when Pippin was up to something, from the time he'd known him as a little scamp, turning things downside-up on a visit to Bag End.  
  
'He was!' Pippin defended. 'At least... he was supposed to tell you he was working for Ferdibrand.'  
  
'He did, that,' the Mayor admitted. 'And Ferdibrand is in Greenholm, I take it? Trouble with ruffians again?'  
  
'All is quiet on the Western Bounds,' Pippin said stoutly. 'We'd have heard something otherwise.'  
  
'And what are they doing in Greenholm?' the Mayor pressed.  
  
'Representing the Thain,' Regi said smoothly, setting a glass of ale before the Mayor. 'Drink up, now,' he added. 'Late supper will be starting soon and you do not want to rush this ale; it is some of the finest I've tasted in years.'  
  
Samwise got nothing from Pippin, and a letter to Merry elicited no satisfactory response. Pippin was keeping the Master of Buckland as much in the dark as he was the Mayor. Fretting would do no good; the Took would tell them when he was good and ready... but that did not make Samwise, or Merry, now that he was aware something was going on, any more comfortable. Even Elanor and Rosie-lass did not know why Frodo and the hobbits from Greenholm had gone with Ferdi.  
  
The Mayor had to go to South Farthing to open the Strawberry Festival, and after that he was kept busy, but just before Mid-year's day, he received a letter from the Thain inviting him to stop over at the Smials on his way to Michel Delving for the Litheday Fair. He met Merry at the Crowing Cockerel, also on his way to Tuckborough.  
  
'So, we're about to find out what the mystery is,' he greeted the Master.  
  
'Probably just a surprise birthday party for one or the other of us,' Merry answered.  
  
'It's not my birthday,' Sam protested, 'nor is it yours.'  
  
'That will make the surprise complete,' Merry said. He looked about the common room and lowered his voice. 'I think we ought not to speculate, Sam,' he said. 'This is something big, whatever it is.' Samwise nodded.  
  
They rode companionably together the rest of the way to the Great Smials, receiving a royal welcome when they arrived. Teatime was festive, and they were glad to greet Legolas and Gimli afterwards.  
  
'We are on our way to meet the King at the Western border,' Legolas said in answer to Merry's query. 'Pippin was to join us, so we thought it might make a merry party to travel together.'  
  
'Do you have room for another?' Samwise asked.  
  
'Can you cook?' Legolas returned with a straight face.  
  
'I'm told my camp cooking is passable,' the Mayor said solemnly.  
  
'Very well,' Legolas nodded. 'We'll take you on.'  
  
'How about me?' the Master asked.  
  
'Can you wash dishes?' Gimli put in. They all laughed.  
  
'There's a promising sound,' Pippin said, coming up to the group. 'Much better than grumbling and complaining.'  
  
'Now whoever would think to do that?' Gimli said irritably. 'Certainly no one here!'  
  
Later, the elf and the dwarf took themselves off for a walk, tagged after by a horde of young Tooks, who were fascinated by these outlandish folk who were such great friends with the Thain. Pippin invited Merry and Sam to join him in the study.  
  
Once there, Regi shut the door firmly.  
  
'All right, now, what is this all about?' Merry asked.  
  
'Take a look,' Pippin said, spreading out a map upon the desk.  
  
Samwise looked. 'The Westmarch,' he said slowly. 'But this is a much more detailed map than they have at Greenholm.'  
  
'I've had teams surveying the land. They're almost finished, as a matter of fact. From what they've managed to accomplish since the Gondorian New Year, we shall have a fairly good idea of what is involved.'  
  
'What do you mean?' Merry asked.  
  
'Strider has offered to grant the Westmarch to the Shire,' Pippin said after a pause.  
  
'The _whole_ of the Westmarch?' Merry gasped. He looked down at the map again. 'Where would the new Bounds end?'  
  
'The Tower Hills would be neutral territory, habited by Guardsmen, Elves, and Hobbits. We would be able to delve in the eastern face of the Hills; the Guardsmen would occupy the western side, and the towers, of course, would remain property of the elves, though I doubt they often visit those anymore. The entire plain, however, would become a part of the Shire.'  
  
Samwise looked at the map, his breath taken away. 'It is a whole new territory,' Pippin said, excitement in his tone. 'No one lives there, the land is empty for the taking. New farms, new grazing lands, new communities... room to grow.'  
  
'The West Farthing is hardly overcrowded,' the Mayor pointed out.  
  
'The West Farthing does not receive as much rain as the Westmarch,' Regi said quietly. 'It may be within the Bounds, but it shows itself a harsher land to occupy than the Westmarch promises to be.'  
  
'The farmers of Greenholm have already been cultivating the plain near the Far Downs,' Pippin reminded Samwise, and the Mayor nodded. 'With the land within the Bounds, it would come under the King's protection. The farmers on the plain would need fear no further incursions from ruffians.'  
  
'That would be a great benefit,' Merry said. 'Why keep it such a secret?'  
  
'I wanted to see the survey results before making the news public,' Pippin said. 'I did not want to raise the people's hopes, only to dash them again if the land turned out to be hostile, and I do not want hobbits moving out onto the plains until we are sure the land is scoured of ruffians and the King has outposts set up and patrols watching the new Bounds.'  
  
'Very cautious of you,' Merry said.  
  
'What's that supposed to mean?' Pippin asked.  
  
'Nothing,' Merry answered. 'It is a good thing to plan ahead, to be prepared.' He wondered what had happened to his bold, impetuous cousin to make him move so carefully. Had Pippin somehow lost his nerve? Merry shook himself. They'd all become more cautious since Elanor and Rose and Celandine's family had been taken. Still... were they independent hobbits? ...or nervous sheep, waiting on the protection of the shepherd? He didn't like to think of himself as a sheep, knowing sheep as he did, with all the flocks owned by Brandy Hall. Sheep were... to put it mildly... stupid.  
  
It was agreed that Mayor, Master, and Thain would travel together to Michel Delving for the Litheday festivities, and then go on to meet the King outside the Bounds near Greenholm.  
  
'Almost like old times,' Gimli rumbled. 'Here we have five of the Nine travelling together.'  
  
'But quieter,' said Pippin. 'Let us hope this is more of a holiday than a Quest, shall we?'  
  
***  
  
'Nearly Mid-year's Day,' Ferdi said in satisfaction, 'enough time left for one quick survey, yet.' He looked critically at the map his teams had worked so hard to fill in. 'Not enough time to do the Tower Hills justice, mind,' he said, dissatisfied. 'But it will have to do. We shall just scout the eastern face of a portion of the range of hills, look at the suitability of the rock for delving smials.'  
  
'My father told me there are natural caves,' Fastred spoke up. 'That ought to count for something.'  
  
'Promising,' Ferdi said. 'We'll see if we can find one for the record.'  
  
'If we sent out all the teams at the same time we could cover quite a bit of territory,' Frodo said, but the chancellor shook his head.   
  
'No, the teams that just came in will need rest, and time to finish their reports before the Thain arrives.' He frowned, looking at the map. 'I am tempted to go on this one myself,' he said. 'Just one team, leave the rest here in Greenholm to get ready for the influx of visitors. I do believe Mayor and Master will be coming, Legolas and Gimli with them, and of course the King and his retinue.'  
  
'Whom will you take?' Frodo asked eagerly. Ferdibrand stroked his chin as he considered, still gazing at the map. The Mayor's son was still hostile towards Fastred and Leotred, resisting any overtures of friendship the two offered. He was probably resenting yet their attentions towards his sisters. This would not do at all, to Ferdi's thinking. It would be good to throw the three into the bag together, let them rub the rough edges off one another.  
  
'Fastred...' he said, as if considering. The hobbit from Greenholm nodded soberly, though his eyes were shining. He had been shaping into a fair assistant in the months since he'd come to the Smials, and Ferdi meant to ask the Thain if he might keep the lad when he became Warden of Westmarch.  
  
Meeting Leotred's eyes, he said, 'Considering we'll be climbing about on rocky hills, we ought to have a healer along in case someone stumbles and stubs a toe... Leot, are you game?'  
  
'Yes, Sir,' Leotred answered, standing straighter.  
  
'Hmmmm,' Ferdibrand sighed, his eyes on the map again. 'How's your shooting, Frodo?' he asked absently.  
  
'I've been practicing,' Frodo said.  
  
'He's improved quite a bit,' Fastred added. Though his eyes were on the map, Ferdi caught the glare Frodo sent the other's way. No help wanted, evidently. If he could just get the two of them working together on a thorny problem, that attitude would go by the wayside, he'd wager.  
  
'All right,' Ferdi said, as if he'd just then made his decision. Straightening, he said, 'That's our team. Not many, but there's not much time to get there and back and write up the report. We'll leave first thing on the morrow; go pack up.'  
  
'Yes, Sir!' the three younger hobbits said smartly, and marched from the room.   
  
There was a disappointed buzz from the rest of Ferdi's hobbits, and he smiled sympathetically. 'There'll be more survey work to be done,' he said cheerfully. 'I do think that what we've found will please the Thain immensely.' He looked about. 'Thank you all for your efforts,' he added. 'Now, off you go, or you'll miss tea!' The hobbits dispersed, but the chancellor lingered a long time after, gazing at the painstakingly prepared map.  
  



	31. Why Wilt Thou Trouble Thyself?

Note to Readers:   
  
The Muse is plugging along at Merlin. I keep nudging her to break through to the already-written ending, but she has her own ways of doing things and keeps coming up with more material that is absolutely necessary.   
  
(Violets? Where did that come from?)  
  
(Hush now, I'm concentrating! And do be a dear and top off the pina colada whilst you're up, will you? And close the door behind you? Don't you have dishes to wash or something?)  
  
Bookworm! You stopped by! On vacation! I am honoured. Hope you are having a nice time.  
  
FantasyFan, another long, thoughtful review. *sigh* Nice analysis of the maturing of the Travellers. Have another crumpet, dear. Would you like the last of the cucumber sandwiches? You deserve it.  
  
Hai, your wish is my command. See below for "more".  
  
PansyChubb, naughty computer. Doesn't it know that the Muse likes a tasty review along with her pina coladas?  
  
Xena, it was a hard secret to keep. He didn't even tell *me* for the longest time...  Yes, the angst is cranking up.

  


Dana, you are remarkably patient, having read the really angsty part and still waiting, without breathing a hint of what's about to happen, as the bridging material grows and grows like a hobbit who's quaffed a bit too much ent draught...  
  
Look for a new chapter to this story, if all goes well, in two days. Angst is accelerating... that roller coaster has just about reached the top of the hill, if not pausing at the brink... Warning: breakers ahead!  
  
Look for the newest chapter to "Flames", in case you are following that story, on the morrow. And thank you for your patience.  
  
***  
  
**31. Why Wilt Thou Trouble Thyself?**  
  
Legolas was fascinated by the Litheday festivities, the colourful garb the hobbits wore, the diversity of offerings in the bright booths, the food smells in the air, the atmosphere of celebration, jollity, and general well-being. Gimli stalked along by his side, seemingly oblivious to the stares of startled fair-goers, but more than one he fingered his beard in satisfaction as some sibilant comment came to his ears about "...those whiskers! Never seen the like..."  
  
Legolas smiled at the open-mouthed children that tagged after them and even scattered a few pennies from Gondor amongst them. After that, they were always followed by a gaggle of goggling little hobbits. This made Gimli grumble, but more than once the elf caught him in a smile at a particularly winsome little tyke.  
  
Mayor Samwise dragged Pippin and Merry with him to the ceremony which opened the fair. Legolas noted that Pippin smiled but briefly when introduced, though the cheers of the crowd for their Thain were deafening. Merry, he was glad to see, bowed with a grin when the Mayor of Michel Delving invited the crowd to welcome the Master of Buckland.  
  
They stayed in Michel Delving for the entire three days, all the way through the annual pony race, the greased pig race, the trifle-eating contest, the egg toss, wrestling matches, footraces, and various other pleasant pastimes. Gimli guessed the weight of an enormous rock a farmer had grubbed from his field, and won, to his surprise, a kiss from the farmer's pretty daughter. Good thing his beard covered his blushes, he thought privately, as a large number of disappointed hobbit youths watched.  
  
Legolas guessed the weight of a piglet, which turned out to be the prize as well as the puzzle. He solved the problem of carrying a piglet to Greenholm by presenting the little creature to the nearest hobbit lad, who ran shouting to his mum and dad about the magical piglet one of the Fair Folk had conjured out of thin air to give to him, '...and I may keep him forever, mayn't I?' After all, a magical pig oughtn't to be slaughtered when it got big enough for bacon and side meat...  
  
Pippin breathed a sigh of relief when the closing ceremony was over, his thoughts already on the meeting with Elessar, who even now might be awaiting him near Greenholm. And Ferdibrand, who was probably waiting impatiently for the Thain to make an appearance, that he might show off the promising new land that was theirs for the asking...  
  
***  
  
They made good time across the plain, not needing to stop, since this area was already surveyed and mapped. Their objective was the nearest of the elvish towers atop the hills, clearly visible now, near the end of the second day's long journey.  
  
Ferdi breathed in deeply. 'Smell that!' he said.  
  
'Salt,' Fastred agreed.  
  
'I wonder if you can see the Sea from the top of the hills,' the chancellor mused.  
  
'From the top of the tower, I'd reckon,' Leotred said. 'Did Father ever say?' he asked his brother.  
  
'I don't think he got up in the tower, it was locked, as I recall,' Fastred answered. 'And he spoke of his sight of the Sea, but of course, he travelled until he could dabble his toes in it, so I do not know whether he saw it from the hills or not.'  
  
'We'll camp here for the night,' Ferdi said, getting down from the saddle to stretch. 'Is that a spring coming out of the rock, up ahead?'  
  
'Yes,' Fastred said. The Sun had already dipped below the Tower Hills, but he fancied he could see a sparkle on the hillside before them, telling of water trickling down.  
  
They led their ponies from the track they had followed, branching off the great Eastern Road from the Far Downs, untacked and hobbled the beasts so that they might graze.  
  
They laid out their blanket rolls in the long grass and sat down to eat a simple meal of bread and cheese and dried meat, with a little dried fruit. Water from the spring made the meal taste like a feast, and Ferdi nodded with satisfaction. 'Good water,' he said. 'That's a start.'  
  
He eyed the hill before them, the top of the elven tower barely visible from where they crouched at its foot.  
  
'There's a track going up,' Fastred said, coming back from replenishing their bottles at the mouth of the spring. 'Looks pretty direct, from what I could tell.'  
  
'Then let us go the other way round, going up,' Ferdi said. 'After all, we are here to see the sights, not simply touch the tower and return to say we did the deed.'  
  
'There was a path in that direction as well,' Fastred affirmed, 'though not as well-used, and rather circuitous.' He grinned. 'But that is not all! I found the mouth of a cave!'  
  
'A cave!' Ferdi said. 'Well, that _is_ a find. A natural cave means we might have an easy time building a smials here. Let us go and see...'  
  
They spent the last of the afternoon light exploring. The entrance was just high enough that they barely had to duck to enter. With improvised torches, they explored the first room that opened before them, several openings apparent to further rooms under the hill. 'Very promising indeed,' Ferdi said. 'But we need better torches, or lanterns, and ropes to do any exploring here, and I do not like to leave the ponies too long, even hobbled as they are, so let us return to our camp.'  
  
On their way, they examined again the tracks leading upwards, and Ferdi looked closely at the vegetation and the bare rocky ground around them.  
  
'Here, now,' Ferdi said. Fixing the three younger hobbits with a stern gaze, he said, 'I don't want to have any of you stumble into a nest of adders on the rocks...' The brothers from Greenholm nodded, familiar with the ways of vipers sunning themselves on rocky faces, but Frodo shuddered. He'd only heard of adders in stories, and he didn't fancy meeting any. 'Just keep your eyes open,' Leotred said quietly. 'They blend in with their surroundings; you can walk right past and never see one until it moves.'  
  
'The ponies can smell them,' Ferdi said, 'and if you mind your beast he'll keep you out of more trouble than you know.' He pulled out his pipe and had a quiet smoke, the others followed suit, then all of them rolled themselves in their blankets and fell asleep under the dancing stars.  
  
That night, Fastred dreamed of Elanor, the taste of her lips, the surprise and mischief in her eyes as she pulled away, and the promise. Leotred, of a wonder, dreamed in the same span of time of the other sister, but when he reached to take Rose's hand, she pulled away, and her eyes were full of fear.   
  
Frodo dreamed of nothing at all, or remembered nothing when Ferdi wakened him to take the second watch. He settled quietly, back against a large stone, listening to the champing of the ponies' teeth in the grasses nearby, the soft breathing of the sleepers, the rumour of the Sea away beyond the hills, the salt-scented air filling his lungs when he breathed deeply. He frowned when he heard Leotred mutter, 'Rose', in his sleep, but then the other turned over and said no more.  
  
Ferdibrand dreamed of his own lady, as they walked across the plain, hands entwined. He stopped to sweep up a handful of violets from the ground and tucked them tenderly in her hair, and they shared a kiss before walking on. For some reason, he could not feel her hand now, and as his fingers tightened, she slipped away from him, laughing, and he awakened, still reaching for her, the scent of violets lingering on the air in the softness of the moment before the dawn.  
  
In the quiet rooms of Bag End, in the dark of middle night, the peaceful sleepers were startled out of dream by shrieks of terror. Mistress Rose started up in her bed, reaching for Samwise before she remembered he was off to Greenholm with the Thain. Pulling her wrapper about her, she padded across the cold stone floor into the hall, down to the older girls' room. A lamp had been lit, and Rosie-lass sat up in her bed, eyes wide, keening in mindless fear while Elanor and Goldilocks embraced her from either side, petting and comforting her to no avail.  
  
Mistress Rose crossed quickly to the bed to envelop her second daughter, feeling the tension throughout her body, stiff as a board the girl was. Other faces appeared in the doorway. 'Merry!' she rapped out. 'Go for the healer!'  
  
'Right away, Mum,' he said, and was gone, throwing a cloak over his nightshirt, slamming the front door behind him.  
  
'Pippin-lad, put the kettle on,' Mistress Rose said next. 'We could all do with a cup of tea, I warrant, something soothing.'  
  
'Chamomile,' he answered, and Hamfast went with him to build up the fire in the kitchen while Daisy and Primrose comforted the little ones, frightened out of their wits at being startled from sound sleep by Rose's screams.  
  
Rosie-lass had buried her face against her mother's shoulder, no longer screaming, but moaning desperately while Mistress Rose rubbed her back and shoulders, held her tightly against herself, murmured comfort.  
  
The front door slammed again and soon grandmotherly Primrose Chubb was there, saying cheerily, 'Well, now, and what seems to be the trouble?'  
  
'I do not know, Primrose, her eyes are open but she won't waken from this nightmare.'  
  
Old Primrose took a pot from her bag, filled it from the jug of wash water on the dresser, lit a small candle beneath it, and sprinkled in some herbs. As the water warmed, a soothing aroma stole through the room. 'Keep talking to her,' she ordered. 'Soft words, gentle words. Rock her, sing a lullaby, help her to feel safe.' The elderly hobbit looked to Elanor. 'More blankets,' she said. 'Wrap her well.'  
  
Rose rocked and sang, Elanor and Goldi joining in, and a lovely harmony arose in the darkened room. Rose felt her daughter begin to relax, the stiffness giving way to trembling as the girl sagged against her. When the song ended, she crooned, 'That's it, lass, that's it now. You're safe in your own bed at home, safe, now, lass.'  
  
'Don't,' Rosie-lass whimpered, then stiffened again, her voice rising to a shriek that chilled her hearers. 'Don't let them find you, Frodo! Hide! Hide! Don't let them...' and burying her head again in her mother's shoulder, she burst into a violent fit of weeping.  
  
They coaxed and comforted, soothed and sang until she quietened again. By then the teakettle had whistled, a pot of chamomile tea was steeping, and by dint of much coaxing they were able to get Rosie-lass to drink down a mugful.  
  
They eased her back down on the bed, and soon she was asleep, one hand still holding her mother's, the other pillowing her cheek. Little old Primrose rose cautiously from the bed, saying to the others, 'Come now, let us make sure all the little ones get back to bed.'  
  
'Thank you, Primrose,' Mistress Rose whispered.  
  
The old hobbit nodded and smiled. 'We'll talk in the morning,' she whispered in return. Rose nodded, and within a few minutes the quiet closing of the front door heralded the other's departure as Bag End again slipped into sleep. Rose sat up in the bed between Elanor and Rosie-lass, holding the latter's hand, until the morning light crept through the windows of Bag End's outermost rooms.


	32. You are Torn Loose

Note to Readers:   
  
The Muse is plugging along at Merlin. We have broken through to already-written material, half a dozen chapters' worth, so you may look forward to regular updates for the next two weeks (every other day) as long as ff.net cooperates.   
  
Dana, I'm starting to smell violets, myself. Rather a nice scent, actually.  
  
runaround, perhaps the reason is because you are an astute reader.  
  
LadyJea, good to see you! Don't die, please. There's altogether too much dying...  
  
Xena, we've turned the corner. The roller coaster is starting to descend the first big hill now. Are you buckled in?  
  
FantasyFan, the Muse thanks you for topping off her pina colada. No wonder she's humming sad songs and looking smug. Is Pip feeling the weight of responsibility so much? Yes.  
  
Aemilia Rose, yes, poor Rose... but it could have been much worse.  
  
Look for a new chapter to this story, if ff.net agrees, in two days. Warning: we have entered rough waters, and more breakers are ahead!  
  
Look for the newest chapter to "Flames", in case you are following that story, on the morrow. And thank you for your patience.  
  
***  
  
**32. You Are Torn Loose**  
  
The Five arose before the dawning. The innkeeper had a hot breakfast ready, for many of those who'd come to Michel Delving for the Litheday Fair would be looking for an early start.  
  
The hobbits and dwarf rode ponies; the elf strode along on his long legs, easily matching their pace. Legolas noticed that Pippin was preoccupied, and from the glances he caught passing amongst the other hobbits, the others had noticed as well, but after the fashion of hobbits, were too polite to comment.  
  
Gimli was riding along beside the Thain, making conversation about the building of the New Smials, the collapse of the roof during construction which had jeopardised not only the project but the Thain himself. Legolas caught a keen glance from the dwarf, and nodded to himself. Gimli had noticed, as well. Something about this journey was worrying his young friend, and it looked as if it would come out later rather than sooner.  
  
They rode through the day, across the sweep of the West Farthing, arriving at Greenholm just past teatime. Pippin was greeted enthusiastically by his hobbits, though Ferdibrand was not there, nor did Samwise find his son Frodo. Word was waiting to the effect that the King, however, was awaiting them at the outpost near Greenholm and had sent a guardsman to the border, to pass the message to a Shirriff for conveyance to the Thain.  
  
'I thought Ferdi would be here; we'd agreed to meet this day,' the Thain said to one of the Tooks as they walked to the great room in the smials at Greenholm. 'The King is expecting us the day after tomorrow, and I wanted a chance to go over your findings.'  
  
'They're out on a last survey; we're expecting them back on the morrow,' Hildivard Took said in answer to the Thain's question. 'Just gathering a bit of ribbon bow to top off the present, you know.' ...and that was all they could get from the Tookish surveyors, for the residents of Greenholm were escorting them to the great room, where a banquet was being served.  
  
'Not like Ferdi to miss a banquet,' Pippin said as they sat down.  
  
'Ah, well,' Hildivard answered. Being the highest ranking Took present, next to the Thain, he had to _sit_ next to the Thain as well, at least until Ferdibrand showed up again. 'He probably just got tied up.'  
  
***  
  
The explorers were up early as the rising Sun struck the western faces of the Tower Hills before them, turning the white elven tower, visible from where they camped, into a finger of bright flame. The survey party were able to ride some of the time on the winding path, though there were some narrow or steep parts where they got off and led the ponies, for safety's sake.  
  
By midday, they had reached the base of the tower, and the plain spread out before them to the East, hills to North and South, with the other towers, one to each side of them, and in the West they thought they might discern the Sea. The rocky hills were not bare, as the hobbits had first thought them, approaching from the plain, but covered with heathers and bracken and low, thorny bushes, gorse and blackberry, mostly. The early heathers bloomed, bright pink against the green of burgeoning gorse, and the ponies snatched eagerly at the treat, velvet lips stripping the bark from the gorse without disturbing its thorns. The area around the base of the tower was bare rock, and the hobbits walked all the way around, wondering at the smooth face, no sign of a door. 'Must be one of those magical things the Thain tells about,' Ferdi muttered, running his hands over the surface. 'Some sort of elvish trick to keep the riffraff out.'  
  
Leaning against the tower was a crude shack constructed of boards, looking ready to fall had not the tower propped it. The door hung from one hinge, and cautiously pushing it open enough to peep inside, Ferdi saw nothing but dust and broken boards. 'Abandoned,' he muttered, 'but I'll warrant this is not elvish work.'  
  
Fastred found the remains of a campfire roughly ringed with stones. 'Less than a week old,' he said.  
  
'I wonder who made it?' Frodo mused. 'Elves?'  
  
Ferdi shook his head. 'Elves leave no sign of their passing,' he said absently. He did not like where his thoughts were taking him. Abruptly he arose from his consideration of the ashes of the campfire. 'Let us head back,' he said. 'We'll take the direct route down, let the King's guardsmen know what we've seen here.' There was no leisure in his movements now; he was all business.  
  
They mounted up and started down the more direct trail to the bottom, single file on the narrow track, not talking now, each deep in his own thoughts. Had they found more ruffians?  
  
Ferdibrand rode a little ahead of the others. He of all hobbits should have paid more attention to the trail, but he missed the subtle signs until it was nearly too late. The track was running along the side of a steep rock face; he passed the bent sapling with barely a glance, then suddenly pulled his pony to a stop, shouting, 'Stay back! There's a trap here!' There was no room on the trail to turn around, and he kneed the pony hard, pulling back on the reins to urge it backwards, but the trap had been sprung; the trail began to slide out from under their feet and suddenly Ferdi and his pony were falling, as well as Frodo, next in the line, sliding down, part of a rock fall, quantities of rock and sand sliding with them as Fastred and Leotred watched in frozen horror.  
  
When the rumbling stopped, Fastred had enough presence of mind to back his pony, calling to his brother to do the same. They backed until the track widened enough to dismount; then Fastred tossed his reins to Leotred and ran back to the crumbling edge of what remained of the trail. Throwing himself down, he looked over, calling, 'Ferdi! Frodo!'  
  
'Here,' came a reply below and somewhat to his left. Looking down, he saw a dust-covered Frodo, partway down the slope, clinging to some stubborn woody plants that grew out of a crack in the rock.  
  
'Wait, I'll get a rope to you!' Fastred shouted.  
  
'I'm not going anywhere,' came back the reply, and Fastred grinned in spite of himself. That Frodo! He'd be a good friend if he weren't such a Took about his sisters...   
  
Leot had already dug a length of rope out of one of the saddlebags. Fastred fastened the rope to his saddle, took his pony's reins, led him nearly to where the track had broken, and threw the rope towards Frodo.  
  
'Can you get it?' he called.  
  
'I see it,' Frodo answered. 'Don't pull me up.'  
  
'What do you mean?'  
  
Frodo looked up. 'Do you see Ferdi?' he said.  
  
Fastred swept the bottom of the cleft once, twice. He shook his head. 'No.'  
  
'All right, then,' Frodo went on. 'He's got to be below me. Keep the rope steady, I'm going to lower myself to the bottom and have a look about.'  
  
Leotred came up behind Fastred; he had tied his own pony to some roots protruding from the cliffside. Now he said urgently to Fastred, 'Ferdi called it a trap. Don't you think we ought to be a bit more circumspect? Maybe leave off the shouting?'  
  
Fastred nodded. 'Just one more shout,' he said, and looking over, he called, 'Frodo!' The other looked up again, and Fastred made the hand signal Ferdi had taught them, repeating it for good measure, seeing the other nod.  
  
Frodo reached over to grasp the rope. Fastred steadied it as it took his weight, while Leotred soothed the pony, so that it would stand fast and not pull against Frodo's weight, as its instincts urged.  
  
Frodo lowered himself down the rope, landing nearly atop his dead pony, hardly visible, covered with dust as it was. He could feel the grit in his own hair, coating his skin. Ferdi would be difficult to find at best. He risked a low-voiced call. 'Ferdi!'  
  
No answer came, and he began to work his way along the rockfall, finding Ferdi's pony next, or at least one of its legs protruding from the rubble. He'd started to clear away some of the debris, looking for the rider, when he heard a moan a few feet away.  
  
Following the sound, he found the dust-covered chancellor, half buried in the slide. Launching himself to his feet, he waved both arms, receiving an answering wave from above.  
  
He had half-uncovered the unconscious hobbit when Leotred came up to him, having slid down the rope after taking his bag of supplies from his saddle.  
  
'He's alive,' Frodo muttered, and as Leotred bent to check his patient, he kept pulling away the dirt and rock with his hands. As he uncovered Ferdi's legs, he gasped and fell back, whispering 'Leot!'  
  
The healer hobbit looked over and exhaled sharply as if he'd been punched in the stomach. 'No,' he said softly, pain in his tone. One of the legs was badly broken, bone showing plainly through the skin.   
  
Leotred straightened abruptly. 'Keep digging,' he said to Frodo, and turned to rummage in his bag, bringing out a stub of a pencil and a piece of crumpled paper. Smoothing it out, he wrote quickly. He scouted the ground for a rock of the right size and shape, wrapped the paper around it, tied it with a short length of bandage, and stood to wave to Fastred.  
  
At the other's answering wave, he threw the stone upwards, narrowly missing his brother's head. 'He'll go around to the tower, grab some boards from that shed, they'll do for splints, and come down the other trail,' Leotred explained to Frodo.  
  
Ferdi moaned again, and Leotred said, 'Ferdi? Can you hear me?'  
  
'I've ears, haven't I?' muttered the chancellor.  
  
'Do you know who I am?' the healer pressed.  
  
Ferdi opened one eye. 'Don't you know who you are?' he demanded. 'Did you hit your head?'  
  
'No, I'm well,' Leotred said. 'What we're trying to determine here is if _you_ hit _your_ head.'  
  
'Damned funny way of determining it,' Ferdi muttered, closing the eye again.  
  
'Do you know where we are?' Leotred asked.  
  
'Don't start that again,' Ferdi said truculently. 'I know where we are, I know what happened, I'm calling myself twenty kinds of fool for walking into this with my eyes open.'  
  
'That's a relief,' Frodo said.  
  
'Glad _you_ think so,' Ferdi grumbled. He started to try to pull himself up on his elbows, only to collapse again.  
  
'Don't try to move,' Leotred said belatedly.  
  
'_Now_ he tells me,' Ferdi said to the sky, then to the healer, 'Do you want to give me the rest of the news now? ...or are you saving it to savour over tea and crumpets?'  
  
'Your leg is badly broken,' Leotred said.  
  
'I'd guessed that,' Ferdi began, but the other interrupted him.  
  
'Will you stay quiet long enough for me to finish?' the healer said, uncharacteristically sharp. The chancellor subsided.  
  
'That's better,' Leotred said. 'It's going to have to come off, I'm afraid, but this is neither the time nor the place.'  
  
'You're right about that,' Ferdi said. 'We walked into a trap, and we need to busy ourselves making sure we're not in it when the trappers come back to see what they've caught.'  
  
'I'm going to splint the leg for now,' Leotred said. 'I figured as much; we've got to move you out of here as soon as we can. Fastred ought to be along with some boards from that shed in an hour or three; he'll be taking the long way down.'  
  
'At least going down will be faster than the climb,' Frodo said.  
  
'Yes, but he'll be taking care, watching out,' Leotred said. 'If someone wasn't alerted by the noise, well, they might come along and notice that the trail is gone and start looking about.'  
  
'Which brings me to my point,' Ferdi said. 'How many ponies fell?'  
  
'Two, yours and mine,' Frodo answered.  
  
'Find them, dig them out enough to get the harness off, bury them again. If they're found it might appear they strayed and set off the slide all by themselves.'  
  
Leotred completed his examination. 'Looks as if the leg is our worst trouble,' he said. 'You're breathing well, and not losing much blood.'  
  
'Such reassurance,' Ferdi said. 'Pardon me for not dancing in delight.'  
  
Leotred dug a bottle from his bag, unstoppered it, and held it to Ferdi's lips. 'Drink,' he said.  
  
'It's not ent draught, is it?' Ferdi said.  
  
'You know we used the last of it on Regi,' Leotred answered.  
  
'That's a mercy,' the chancellor said, and drank. He sighed, and said, 'Water from that spring. Very refreshing. Now you lads go dig out those ponies whilst we're waiting for Fastred.'  
  
Their hands were scraped and bleeding by the time the task was done, but they gathered the tack and saddle bags and covered their tracks to and from the bodies, leaving the ponies half-buried as if the slide had left them that way. Shortly after they'd finished, Fastred arrived. He left the two remaining ponies tied at the edge of the slide and worked his way across the loose rock and dirt to them.  
  
'How is he?' he asked, handing his brother a board he'd chopped out of the door to the shed.  
  
'I've seen better days,' Ferdi answered for himself.   
  
'Bite this,' Leotred said, giving him a piece of cloth, and Ferdi lifted it to his mouth, gritting his teeth into the cloth as the board was placed under him and the leg bound securely to it.  
  
'There,' Leotred said, 'that's the best I can do for the nonce.' He met Ferdi's eyes. 'It'll have to come off,' he repeated.  
  
'You said that already, but I don't fancy your chopping away at it with our little hatchet, so I shall await your pleasure,' the chancellor answered, face pale and beaded with perspiration. 'Now we must needs get under cover.'  
  
'How about the cave?' Frodo asked. 'It is out of the way, and not too far from the spring.'  
  
'Good thinking, Frodo,' Ferdi said. 'And once you get me there, one of you can ride for help.'  
  
They eased him onto a blanket and carried him to the spring, then while Leotred flooded the open wound with the icy spring water, Fastred went back to the slide to brush away any tracks they might have left.  
  
Wounded leg as clear of dust as he could make it, Leotred and the others took Ferdi the rest of the way to the cave, laying him gently down on a double layer of blankets.  
  
'_Now_ you worry about chills,' Ferdi said, still shivering from the spring water. Leotred ignored him, busy wrapping the last of their blankets around him.  
  
'Prop me up,' Ferdi said.  
  
'I don't want to move you again,' Leotred answered.  
  
'I'll move myself if I have to. Prop me up,' Ferdi insisted. Leotred rolled his eyes at the others, but they carefully pulled the blankets back until the chancellor was sitting propped against a rock.  
  
'Thanks,' he breathed. 'Makes me feel less helpless, somehow.' This was quite a confession, from him, and the others made no answer in order to spare his feelings.  
  
'All right, now,' Leotred said. 'Fas, you ride back to Greenholm, I'll give you a list of what to fetch back...'  
  
'No,' Ferdi interrupted. 'Fastred needs to stay, he's the best shot of you three.' He shifted uncomfortably. 'There's going to be trouble sooner than later, I'll warrant.'  
  
'Frodo, then?' Leotred said uncertainly, but the chancellor shook his head.  
  
'What all do I need you for?' he demanded of the healer. 'You've washed the wound, you've splinted the leg, there's naught more to do but wait. You'd be better served to ride to Greenholm yourself, gather your supplies.   
  
'Stop by the guardsmen's outpost, bring them back with you. Tell them we've ruffians about, I'm sure they wouldn't mind a little excursion to the hills with the prospect of some hunting in the offing.' He didn't care _which_ young hobbit rode off to Greenholm, really, but he did not need the healer hovering over him for the next two or three days, a constant reminder that the leg would "come off" as soon as the rescue party arrived.  
  
'I...' Leotred began, but Fastred pulled him aside. 'He's right,' he whispered. 'You'll know best which supplies to get, and there's naught to be done but watch for fever and keep him drinking, true? Even I know that much.'  
  
'Take both ponies,' the chancellor broke in. 'You can ride one and lead the other, and switching every hour or so, they'll go better for you, stay fresher.'  
  
Somehow, without his quite knowing how it happened, Leotred found himself not long after, astride one pony, leading the other, setting off across the wide plain towards home.  
  



	33. I Have Placed My Confidence

Note to Readers:   
  
The Muse is plugging along at Merlin. We have broken through to already-written material, half a dozen chapters' worth, so you may look forward to regular updates for the next two weeks (every other day) as long as ff.net cooperates.   
  
No time for more notes this morning, not if I hope to get this up on ff.net, but I certainly appreciate the reviews and will have more time on the morrow...  
  
Look for a new chapter to this story, if ff.net agrees, in two days. Warning: we have entered rough waters, and more breakers are ahead!  
  
Look for the newest chapter to "Flames", in case you are following that story, on the morrow. And thank you for your patience.  
  
***  
  
**33. I Have Placed My Confidence**  
  
'Are you going to meet with Elessar?' Merry asked as he walked with his cousin in the brilliant sunset light.  
  
'I had wanted to consult with Ferdibrand, first,' Pippin said.  
  
'As head of the survey...' Merry began, but the Thain interrupted.  
  
'More importantly, as Warden of Westmarch, eventually perhaps even Master of Westmarch, I value his opinion,' Pippin said. Merry stopped in surprise.  
  
'Just how long have you been thinking about this?' he asked slowly.  
  
'Since Strider offered the Westmarch to the Shire, back in Buckland,' Pippin answered.  
  
'You didn't tell me,' Merry said.  
  
'I didn't tell anyone, except Ferdibrand. Even the survey team doesn't know _why_ they are surveying the land. We've allowed them to think they are helping me do the King a favour.'  
  
'Why the secrecy?' Merry asked, more curious than angry.  
  
Pippin sighed, but did not answer. Merry put a hand on his cousin's shoulder.  
  
'What is it, Pip?' he asked.  
  
'Perhaps I'm just not cut out to be Thain,' Pippin answered softly. Merry bit back an automatic protest, forcing himself to wait. Pippin was not the type to go fishing for compliments.  
  
When he finally spoke again, his voice was so low that Merry had to strain to hear him. 'The Westmarch is so big, Merry, so rich, such a prize, I ought to be jumping for joy that it is ours for the taking... but I am not. I see it as just another stone added to the load that I am already staggering under. I cannot... I cannot...' his voice broke, and then was quiet for a long time. 'It is just too much,' he said finally.  
  
Merry thought for a long time before he answered. 'With a competent administrator, one who can take some of the load,' he began, 'which Ferdibrand will be, knowing him...'  
  
'Yes,' Pippin answered. 'He is the best choice to administrate the new territory. But how can I spare him?'  
  
'Reginard...' Merry began, but Pippin broke in.  
  
'Ferdi has taken on Regi's load as well as his own. I lean heavily upon him, myself, when the Shire grows too heavy. Regi's not well, you know, Merry.'  
  
'I know,' Merry said, 'but he is getting better.'  
  
'Slowly,' Pippin said. 'When a pony's been down you don't hitch him to a fully loaded waggon right away, you give him a light load at first and gradually add weight as he grows stronger.' He took a deep breath. 'I do not want Reginard to break under too heavy a load, too soon.'  
  
'And so you risk breaking down, yourself,' Merry observed.  
  
'O Merry...' Pippin said, his voice shaking, then burst out bitterly. 'I'm a coward, is all, just a useless coward. I'm afraid to take on this new challenge, afraid to let Ferdi go, afraid...' He could not go on, and Merry put his arms around his younger cousin.  
  
'Steady, Pip,' he murmured, as he would to a pony balking at a hill. 'The load's too heavy, for sure. Give it over for the nonce. Rest this night. We will talk to Strider about this in the morning.' He could feel Pippin's headshake against his shoulder, and added, 'Listen to me in this, I'm supposed to be older and wiser, after all.'  
  
They stood a long time together thus, the younger drawing strength from the older, as the last of the light faded from the sky, before they turned to walk back to the smials.  
  
***  
  
When Frodo entered the cave, fading daylight behind him, he found that Fastred had lit one of the small travel lamps they'd brought with them. The tiny flame seemed almost lost in the darkening cavern, but there was enough light for the tween to see the worry on the Greenholm hobbit's countenance.  
  
'I cannot rouse him to drink,' he said. 'Do you think he might have hit his head after all?'  
  
Frodo shrugged. 'I'm no healer,' he replied, then crouched down by Ferdi, softly calling the other's name. There was no response.  
  
'Have you tried putting the bottle to his lips?' he said.  
  
'I'm afraid he'll choke,' Fastred answered. Frodo nodded.  
  
'You know, I just realised,' Frodo said, 'the Thain is supposed to be at Greenholm by now, and he was to meet the King there. We were doing the survey for the King, you know.'  
  
'I knew that,' Fastred said, though he had often wondered at the way Pippin and Ferdibrand had closeted themselves for discussions before the survey team had left the Great Smials, and how Ferdi always finished the reports in private, and sealed them before sending them on to the Thain. Why the secrecy? Something was up, something to do with the Westmarch... and the Thain.  
  
'Well, the King is a healer,' Frodo went on. 'He was first recognised as King by his healing powers. Perhaps he could heal Ferdi's leg.'  
  
Fastred kept his thoughts to himself, but his lips tightened. Certainly the King loomed large in the stories, but didn't fantastic stories often grow from little seeds of events? All the King had to do was lay his hands on someone already recovering from a fever, and folk would be ready to spin a legend.  
  
'How do we know he'd come?' was all he said.  
  
'If Leot tells the Thain that Ferdi thinks there are ruffians infesting the Tower Hills, the Thain will call on the guardsmen, and the King will not let them ride out without him...' Frodo said.  
  
Fastred suppressed a snort. Frodo certainly had a lot of faith in this King of his. 'Let's try one more time,' he said, to change the subject.  
  
He poured some of the icy water from the spring into the palm of his hand and gently patted Ferdi's cheek. 'Wakey, wakey!' he said cheerfully.  
  
Ferdi moved his head away and groaned. 'I hate it when people say that,' he muttered.  
  
'Time for a drink,' Fastred said.  
  
'I'll take a mug,' Ferdi said, 'but no more, mind. I'm on duty in a few hours.'  
  
'Ferdi, wake up!' Fastred said, holding the bottle to the chancellor's lips. 'Drink this down. Water from the spring; best water you'd ever tasted, you said.'  
  
Ferdi drank and half-opened his eyes. 'Not bad,' he said, when the bottle was taken away. 'Got anything to go with that?'  
  
'Let me see,' Frodo said, digging in the bag. 'Bread and cheese... or would you prefer cheese and bread?'  
  
'The former, I think,' Ferdi said. 'If it is not too much trouble.'  
  
'No trouble at all,' Frodo answered. Fastred picked up his bow and quiver and jerked his head towards the entrance of the cave. Frodo nodded and kept talking cheerfully as he broke off a chunk of bread and cut some cheese, handing this to Fastred, then prepared another portion for Ferdibrand.  
  
Fastred munched his portion as he walked to the entrance of the cave, then sticking his head out, he listened carefully to the night noises outside. All seemed as it should be, so he cautiously emerged, crept to a hiding place with a good view of the cave entrance and its environs, and settled to watch.  
  
***  
  
It had been a long, hard ride, but now Leotred could see the lights of Greenholm ahead, and the sight gave him new energy. The ponies, too, pricked up their ears and surged ahead, the call of home strong in them.  
  
It was close to dawn, and the stars were beginning to fade in the sky as the Sun threw her promise above the Far Downs. Suddenly, tall, dark shapes loomed ahead, and a grim voice called, 'Halt! Identify yourself.'  
  
He must have reached the Bounds; these were King's Men!  
  
'Leotred of Greenholm,' he answered, pulling the ponies to a stop, which they were happy enough to do, immediately trying to drop their heads to crop at the grass. He kept their heads up, however, for he did not want the tired beasts to forget their manners and perhaps decide to take a nice roll to ease their tired muscles.  
  
'Advance and be recognised,' the voice came again, and Leotred squeezed with his legs to make his weary pony step forward. A lantern was uncovered to shine on his face, and he fought the instinct to throw up his arm to shield his eyes.  
  
'It is one of the Pheriannath,' another guardsman said. 'How do you come to be riding out of the Westmarch, alone?'  
  
'Four of us went out on the business of the King and the Thain,' Leotred answered. 'One was injured, and I was sent back to summon aid.'  
  
'The King will want to hear of this,' the guardsman answered. 'I will send a messenger to fetch the Thain, and bring you to Elessar at once.'  
  
'I need to get some supplies...' Leotred began, but the guard cut him off.  
  
'All in good time. I am sure the King will make all the necessary arrangements. Follow me.'  
  
It seemed he had no choice in the matter, and so Leotred complied.  
  
***  
  
A soft knock at the door, and the officer in charge of the outpost stuck his head in. 'Beg pardon, Sire,' he said, 'but one of the Pheriannath has come out of the Westmarch with an appeal for aid.'  
  
'Thank you, Farothion,' Elessar said, rising from the bed, quickly pulling on his boots. 'Is the Thain here?'  
  
'We have sent word to Greenholm,' the other answered.  
  
Elessar emerged into the common room, buckling his sword belt. A hobbit stood before him, not much past his majority, the King guessed. The other bowed.  
  
'Leotred of Greenholm, at your service,' he said.  
  
'And at the service of your family,' Elessar answered correctly. The other relaxed subtly. 'Come, sit, take food and drink. The Thain ought to be here shortly.'  
  
Leotred nodded, climbing atop one of the stools kept for hobbit convenience. Food was set before him, and he bowed to the King and the officer before tearing into the food as one famished.  
  
'Beg pardon,' he said through a mouthful. 'I haven't eaten since yesterday, and it's a long ride from the Tower Hills.'  
  
'You came from Emyn Beraid?' the King asked sharply. 'You are part of the Thain's survey?'  
  
Leotred nodded. 'We ran into trouble, a rockslide. Ferdi said...'  
  
'Ferdibrand Took?' the King interrupted.  
  
'Yes, he was leading our team. He was injured in the slide. He said... he thought...'  
  
'Slow down,' the King urged. 'Take a deep breath.'  
  
Leotred complied, finished chewing the current mouthful, washed it down with a swallow of ale, nodded. 'That's better,' he said. 'He thought it was a trap, set by ruffians.'  
  
'Did you see any ruffians?' Farothion asked sharply.  
  
Leotred shook his head. 'No, but Ferdi said it was a trap.'  
  
'He'd know; he set enough traps in his own day, to keep ruffians out of Tookland,' Elessar commented to the officer, then turned back to Leotred.  
  
'How badly was Ferdibrand hurt?' he asked.  
  
'Badly broken leg,' Leotred said. 'I didn't have what I needed to deal with it--I did what I could and then rode for help.'  
  
'Is he alone?'  
  
'No, my brother Fastred, and Frodo Gamgee, are with him,' Leotred answered.  
  
'Call out your men,' Elessar said to the officer. 'Rouse the entire outpost. Ready a messenger to send along to the next outpost, to cover Greenholm while we're gone.'  
  
'Yes, Sire,' Farothion said, and jumped to comply.  
  
'Where are they now?' Elessar asked.  
  
'In a cave we found. The entrance is not obvious, and we hoped it would give them shelter and conceal them from any ruffians that were alerted when the trap was sprung.'  
  
'Ruffians?' said King Ha'alas, rising from his own sleeping place where he'd been listening. 'Do they yet trouble this land?'  
  
Pippin spoke from the door, Merry and Sam standing grim-faced on either side, and Gimli and Legolas close behind. 'Ruffians?' he said. 'I was afraid of that.'  
  



	34. You Towers of Heaven, You Shining Light

Notes to Readers:   
  
The Muse is plugging along at Merlin. The wedding on the Far Downs is written, can you believe it? ...in rough draft, at least, so stay with us through these current difficulties, the reward is coming...   
  
Thanks for the reviews! Very helpful, quite motivating.  
  
PansyChubb, I admit I hadn't thought of that! It was entirely possible for ruffians to get Leotred, but I think I would have written myself into a corner had I done that... the kinks in the plot were hard enough to hammer out as it was... Whew. Sure glad he's safe with the King's Men now.  
  
Xena, will miss you and your thoughtful reviews! Have a nice time on vacation. I must admit, the "Wakey, wakey" exchange was one of my favourite parts in chapter 33. And I am very glad that Pippin can lean on Merry a bit without the same worries he had in "At the End of His Rope". Everyone should have an older, wiser cousin to go to for advice. Sure wish I did.  
  
Oooooo, FantasyFan, as usual you hit the nail right on the head! Reading your review got *me* quaking all over again. (But what did you mean by the dead parrot? Ooo, another story I haven't read yet...)  
  
Aemilia Rose, *sigh* ruffians. Can't live with 'em, hard to write without 'em. They make such wonderfully convenient villains.  
  
Dana, very insightful comment about luck! It is not that Tooks have bad luck, it is that they have so much luck that they can actually survive the situations their relative boldness (compared to most other hobbits) gets them into. Nice. I nearly snorked when I read your comment about Pippin's gnats... but the Muse glared at me, pointedly crimped the little finger on the hand holding her glass of pina colada, and raised an eyebrow. Whew. Manners firmly in place again.  
  
Hai, yes, for once, Pippin's problems are the least of the problems in one of my stories... and Ferdi's idea *did* work, it seems...  
  
runaround, *gasping* with you...  
  
Aratfeniel, (what does that mean? I assume it is elvish. It does roll nicely from the tongue) Ferdi thanks you for your support.  
  
Look for a new chapter to this story, if ff.net agrees, in two days. Warning: we have entered rough waters, and more breakers are ahead!  
  
Look for the newest chapter to "Flames", in case you are following that story, on the morrow. And thank you for your patience.  
  
***  
  
**34. You Towers of Heaven, You Shining Light**  
  
'Lift his head,' Fastred said to Frodo, and as the other did his bidding, he held the water bottle to Ferdi's lips, only to have the chancellor throw up an arm to knock it away.  
  
'Ferdi,' Fastred soothed. 'It's all right. Drink.'  
  
'No Ent draught,' Ferdi moaned feverishly. 'I'd rather do without.'  
  
'It's not Ent draught,' Frodo said. 'Just water. You need to drink.' He nodded at Fastred, and they tried again, only to have the chancellor push the bottle away. Frodo tried to hold his hands down, but he turned his face aside when the bottle touched his lips.  
  
Fastred sat back. 'What are we to do?' he asked in dismay. 'He's out of his head.'  
  
'The King has healing hands,' Frodo said. 'I've heard about them often enough. He brought my dad back from the brink of death, you know.'  
  
'Elanor told me,' Fastred said absently, only to see Frodo bristle. 'Give over,' he said wearily. 'You're not going to start that again. Nothing happened between us.'  
  
'You kissed her,' Frodo said truculently.  
  
'Yes, I did,' Fastred admitted, surprising himself. 'And a very nice kiss it was, too, and I wouldn't mind another, at the end of a wedding ceremony.' He looked up and laughed at Frodo's expression.  
  
'You mean...?' Frodo said slowly.  
  
'Well, I'd have to ask your dad first,' Fastred answered, '...but, yes.'  
  
'And Ellie?'  
  
'Well, she already said yes, if your dad agrees,' Fastred answered. 'I couldn't very well have asked him, not knowing her feelings.'  
  
'Usually it's done the other way around,' Frodo said dryly.  
  
'Well pardon me for loving your sister,' Fastred said, irritated. 'If she didn't want me, I didn't want to ask your dad and have him jolly her into something she didn't want.'  
  
'You still don't know him, do you?' Frodo said slowly. 'He wouldn't do that, at all.'  
  
'I've heard a lot of stories,' Fastred admitted, 'but I still don't know the hobbit.'  
  
'We'll have to change that,' Frodo said. 'But if you want to go marrying my sister, you're going to have to live a bit closer.'  
  
'The Thain's offered me a position, working for him,' Fastred answered. 'Is the Great Smials close enough?' Frodo's words struck him. 'You mean... you don't object to me marrying Elanor?'  
  
Frodo started to shake his head with a grin, but both were brought back to their present predicament by a moan from the chancellor. Fastred got up suddenly.  
  
'I'm going to go have a look, see if I can see them coming,' he said. 'You stay here, try to get some water into him if you can.'  
  
'Very well,' Frodo said. 'Be careful. Don't want to have to drag _you_ in out of the rain.' Fastred grinned, and crept from the cave. Once outside, he slipped from rock to rock, seeking cover as he moved. They still did not know who had made that campfire... He worked his way to the top of the hill, throwing himself down to gaze over the Westmarch. Looking to his right, he could see one of the towers from where he lay, on the next hilltop. He wondered how much he could see from the top of that tower, but of course, such exploration would have to wait until they took care of the present situation.  
  
Rain trickled through his hair and down his face, and he wiped the moisture away impatiently, staring again out towards the plain. He stiffened, then, seeing antlike figures crawling towards him. The King was coming!  
  
***  
  
Frodo tried to coax Ferdi to drink, but the feverish hobbit knocked the bottle aside each time, shaking his head and protesting bitterly, and finally the tween decided that trying was doing more harm than good, using up energy that Ferdi could ill afford to waste.  
  
He put the bottle down and took Ferdi's hand. 'I'm here,' he said. 'Steady, now.'  
  
'Pippin?' Ferdi moaned, trying to open his eyes.  
  
'Frodo,' the tween corrected.  
  
'Frodo...' Ferdi said, dissatisfied. 'What're you doing here? I thought you sailed in an elven ship all these many years ago.'  
  
It wasn't worth explaining, for with the other out of his head he probably wouldn't understand anyhow. So Frodo just soothed Ferdi with soft words, as if he were sitting bedside watch for a feverish brother, and of a wonder, the chancellor calmed somewhat.  
  
'That's right,' Frodo was saying softly, when suddenly the chancellor jerked alert, eyes open.  
  
'What's that?' he hissed.  
  
For a moment Frodo thought it was the fever talking, but then he heard rough voices outside the cave, and he froze.  
  
Ferdi looked to him, his eyes, of a wonder, aware and alert. 'Ruffians,' he whispered. 'They mustn't find you. Hide. Quickly.'  
  
Without stopping to think, Frodo grabbed up his bow and the quivers, and scrambled behind the rocks they'd propped Ferdi against, pulling his cloak over him, and just in time, for he heard Men cursing, the scraping noise of their crawling, and then the stomp of their heavy booted feet as they stood up inside the cave. Frodo thought of Ferdi, dreadfully exposed, but there was no way he could have dragged him to cover...  
  
'Look here,' one of them said. 'Not only a nice little hidey-hole to get out of the rain, but someone here to greet us in the bargain!'  
  
'What is one of the little rat-folk doing here?' another said sharply.  
  
'Dying, from the look of it,' another joked. He nudged Ferdi's bad leg and the hobbit groaned. 'Might be some good sport here,' he added.  
  
'You and your games, Brant, I tell you, there's trouble afoot. Why would one of the Little Folk be here? What if they discover our hiding places, and send word to those guardsmen of the King's, eh?' The speaker bent down to shake Ferdi roughly. 'You, there, what are you doing here?'  
  
'Elessar,' Ferdi said. 'Keep your hands off, or King or no King, I'll...' his voice trailed away. The ruffians were instantly sober and grim, no joking now. One of them swore.   
  
'Elessar,' the leader gritted. 'The King? Coming here?'  
  
'I told you I saw tracks headed over the plain towards the rat-folks' diggings.'  
  
'Yes, but that was days ago,' the leader said.  
  
'Which means, whoever it was had time to get across the plain, and lead a party back. What if they discovered us here, and sent word to the guardsmen? The King could be on his way even now!'  
  
'Brant!' the leader snapped. 'Go up top and look out over the plain, then hurry back and tell me what you see.' The ruffian named dove for the entrance of the cave. The leader then turned his attention back to Ferdibrand.  
  
'Let us see if we can waken this little one, persuade him to tell us more,' he said.  
  
'Bucket of water in the face?' one of the others suggested.  
  
'No,' the leader mused. 'No, but I've heard of a trick they used to use, questioning these folk when Sharkey was boss, and no effort needed at all...'  
  
Frodo crouched behind the rocks, huddled under the cloak, cringing as he listened to the ruffians interrogating the chancellor.   
  
'You didn't just crawl in here, not with that leg, you didn't, so where are the others?' The chancellor cried out, but gave no answer.  
  
'When is the King coming?'  
  
'Why did you come to the Tower Hills?'  
  
'How many of you are there?'  
  
'Where are the others? Tell us!'  
  
Frodo cowered beneath his cloak, helpless, listening to the bursts of laughter from the ruffians as each "neat trick" brought a reaction from the chancellor. In desperation he stuffed his fingers in his ears, but he could still tell when the ruffians stopped asking questions and merely caused pain for their own amusement, laughing at their prisoner's pleas, for the chancellor had been driven beyond pride or stubbornness.  
  
'What, you beg for death?' the leader laughed hoarsely. 'Don't you worry, little rat, we'll give you your death, soon enough.'  
  
'Not soon enough for his liking, I warrant,' another ruffian quipped, and they laughed again.  
  
At last Ferdi moaned, 'No...' and his voice trailed off into silence.   
  
Frodo wondered if he'd died, but then one of the ruffians said, 'Well, that's that. He's too far gone, we'll get nothing more from him.'  
  
'Bring that torch closer,' another ruffian said, 'I'll look through his clothes. He might have some papers on him, a map or something.'  
  
Suddenly one of the ruffians swore. 'Do you know who this is?'  
  
'You know him?'  
  
'Know him? I nearly hanged him upon a time! This here's the Fox, the one as set all those traps to keep us out of... what was it they called the place? Tickland, or some wild name like that.'  
  
'The Fox...' the leader mused. 'You nearly taught him to dance at rope's end?'  
  
'Yes, we'd caught him, or one of the rat-folk had caught him and turned him over, and we took him to the main road to hang him up to show the other rat-folk what happens to troublemakers. Scar, he was the leader of our gang, he tapped my brother to help with the hanging, sent the rest of us ahead to Stock... and we never saw them again.'  
  
'You think he had something to do with it?'  
  
'Look at the rope scars on his neck! They hanged him, all right, but he didn't stay at the end of the rope long enough to learn to dance, it looks like.'  
  
'Well we can remedy that,' one of the ruffians said nastily.  
  
'No trees nearby,' the leader mused. 'Guess he wasn't born to hang.'  
  
'No, but if this is truly the Fox...' another said.  
  
'What is it, Gimp?' the leader asked.  
  
'I used to drink at that place they called the Cockerel,' the old ruffian said, 'afore we closed it down, good beer there. Anyhow, I heard talk about this Fox. He's not affrighted by much, but he's afeard of fire, they said.'  
  
'Fire...' the leader said thoughtfully. 'I think we could do something with that.'  
  
'What did you have in mind?' someone said.  
  
'O, douse him with lamp oil, leave a candle stub nearby to burn down, something like that perhaps...' the leader said slowly.  
  
Brant scrambled into the cave again. 'Riders, a group of them, coming over the plain!'  
  
'How soon will they be here?' the leader snapped.  
  
'Three, maybe four hours,' Brant gasped.  
  
'Good,' the leader said with satisfaction. 'Enough time to lay a trap. With luck they won't be expecting trouble, and even if they are, there's cracks and crevices to hide in, they won't see us until we rise up to strike them down.' The leader paused. 'Is it still raining?' he asked.  
  
'No, it must have stopped right after we found the cave. There's a brisk wind blowing, and things are starting to dry up already.'  
  
'Dry up already? Good. Take the rat,' the leader said. 'I've got a nice game in mind for him.'  
  
'What's that?' Brant asked eagerly.  
  
'You know that old shed we built against the tower? It's falling down, we don't need it anymore, with this lovely cave to put our supplies in. Why don't we put him inside it, set it afire and see how far this rat can crawl with his broken leg? Do you suppose he can make it all the way out of the shed before the roof falls in on him?'  
  
'I don't know,' Gimp said. 'He looks pretty far gone to me...'  
  
'Maybe his fear of fire will wake him up a bit,' the leader said. 'It's worth a try. And if he doesn't, no great loss. If he were to crawl out we'd just have to toss him back in anyhow.' There was a great guffaw from the other ruffians at this idea. When the laughter quieted, the leader spoke again. 'Brant,' he said, 'you and Gimp take care of this little one, while we take care of the guardsmen.'  
  
The one called Brant laughed and said, 'Now that's the best order you've given all day!'   
  
'What about smoke?' Gimp said sharply. 'Won't that warn off the riders?'  
  
'Naw, if they even notice it, I imagine it'll distract them,' the leader said. 'It'll be up at the top of the hill, by the tower, so they'll be looking for trouble there, not down where we plan to waylay them.'  
  
Gimp nodded, satisfied.  
  
'Seml, you and Ged hide yourselves outside the cave, set a watch. Someone left him here, and they'll be coming back for him, I'm sure. You can give them a nice surprise when they come.' Two voices murmured assent, and Frodo heard them crawling out of the cave.  
  
Frodo heard Ferdi grunt as he was lifted from the cave floor, and then the voices of the ruffians receded.  
  
***  
  
Fastred went to earth behind a rock as he heard the approach of booted feet. A Man appeared--a ruffian! He panted to the top of the hill, throwing himself down in nearly the same spot that the hobbit had just vacated. He looked over the plain and swore, arose quickly, and slipped and slid his way down again, towards the cave.  
  
Fastred had little doubt, now, as to who had made the campfire.  
  



	35. Enemies, Blow the Alarm!

Notes to Readers:   
  
The Muse is plugging along at Merlin. The wedding on the Far Downs is written, can you believe it? ...in rough draft, at least, so stay with us through these current difficulties, the reward is coming...   
  
Thanks for the reviews! Very helpful, quite motivating.  
  
PansyChubb, very astute guesses.  
  
FantasyFan, I was truly distressed... Chapter 34 was horribly difficult to write and I still have trouble reading it over. If you find any typos, let me know, I could not proof it as carefully as usual. Please don't close the book! O and thank you for explaining the dead parrot. I laughed myself silly, and now every time a hobbit says "Wakey, wakey..."  
  
Bookworm, this part of Merlin gives me that same adrenaline rush. Not an altogether pleasant feeling... perhaps that is why I have finally sworn off RL roller coasters...  
  
runaround, I could just *hear* you say that. A bodyguard. But I thought Ferdi *was* a bodyguard. No wait, he's a chancellor...  
  
Aratfeniel, what do you mean, "yet"? Have you been listening in on our conversations, speculating on how long Ferdi and Regi live, since the Professor didn't specify?  
  
Aemilia Rose, I hope I did not leave it like that for too long... and there will be another chapter, ff.net allowing, the day after tomorrow.  
  
Look for a new chapter to this story, if ff.net agrees, in two days. Warning: we have entered rough waters, and more breakers are ahead!  
  
Look for the newest chapter to "Flames", in case you are following that story, on the morrow. (Flames is finished, by the way, on paper. Now all I have to do is type it in... O and it has been so much fun to write the chapters following the Race!) Thank you for your patience.  
  
***  
  
**35. Enemies, Blow the Alarm!**  
  
Fastred made his way cautiously, as silently as a wary hobbit can, and that is very quietly indeed. He was not far from the cave when he stopped. There was at least one watcher outside the cave, guarding the entrance. He moved very slowly in a half circle around the cave mouth, spotting another ruffian. He scouted thoroughly until he was convinced that there were only two watchers, then finding a position where he could see both at once, he quietly strung his bow and took out several arrows.  
  
He steeled himself as he drew back the string, reminding himself of what ruffians had done to Reginard Took, what they had intended to do to Elanor's sister, what they might already have done to Ferdibrand and Frodo in the cave. With two sharp snaps of his bowstring, the ruffians slumped, unmoving, behind their rocks.  
  
Fastred stole quietly to the cave, picking up an abandoned torch, lighting it quickly, ducking inside, only to find it empty; no sign that anyone had been there at all. The ruffians had taken the hobbits' supplies with them, and evidently Ferdi--and Frodo--as well. He looked about, started to crawl out again, then thought of the cleft behind the rocks where they'd cached some of their supplies.  
  
Crawling over the rocks where of late Ferdi had been propped, he found Frodo, huddled under his cloak, curled into as tiny a ball as he could make of himself, hands over his ears.  
  
At Fastred's touch, he gasped and shivered, trying to draw himself tighter.  
  
'Frodo,' Fastred said urgently. 'Frodo!' ...but the other did not respond.  
  
Fastred took his water bottle from his belt, hesitated a moment, then poured some of the contents over Frodo's head. The other shuddered. Fastred lost patience then, and grabbing Frodo's shoulders, shook him as hard as he could. 'Frodo!' he said. Saying the first thing that came into his head, he added, 'It's time to get up!'  
  
'Merry?' Frodo whispered, and Fastred remembered that this was the name of the brother next to him in age, after Rosie-lass. He'd play along.  
  
'Dad says it's time to get up, lazy-bones,' he said. 'It's your turn to weed the cabbages.'  
  
'You're only saying that because...' Frodo said, lifting his head, but his voice trailed off and his eyes widened at seeing Fastred and the cave behind him.  
  
'That's better,' Fastred said. 'Welcome back to the world.'  
  
'They took him,' Frodo whispered.  
  
'I know,' Fastred said. 'Where? Maybe we can get him back.'  
  
'O Fas,' Frodo breathed. 'They're going to burn him... burn him alive.'  
  
'Not if we have anything to say about it,' Fastred said grimly, and Frodo took heart from his determination.  
  
Fastred eyed the younger hobbit keenly. 'What else did they say?'  
  
Frodo stiffened. 'They're going to set a trap for the King,' he said.  
  
Fastred nodded. 'The King is coming,' he said absently, his mind awhirl. They had to warn the King, and they had to save Ferdibrand, and they had to do both within the same span of time. 'Where were they taking Ferdi?' he asked.  
  
'To that old shed that leans against the near tower,' Frodo said.  
  
Fastred nodded again. 'How many?'  
  
'Two of them,' Frodo answered. 'The rest were to waylay the King.'  
  
'Very well,' Fastred said. 'We'll fetch away Ferdi, first off, and then warn the King.'  
  
Frodo clutched at his sleeve. 'Fas, they're going to attack the Havens, next,' he said urgently. 'I heard them talking! This is not the only band of ruffians in the area; there are quite a few lurking hereabouts, waiting for a signal to join together and slaughter the elves.'  
  
'More ruffians hereabouts?' Fastred said. 'We'll have to go very carefully. Got your bow? Good, let us go.'  
  
***  
  
They reached the shed in time to see the ruffians toss torches through the open door of the shed and then settle down to wait.  
  
'How many times do you think we'll have to throw him back in?' one of them said, and the other guffawed.  
  
'I'll wager my skinning knife that he doesn't crawl out at all,' the other said.  
  
'You're on, I'll say we'll have to toss him back at least once,' the first ruffian said. 'His eyes were open as we propped him against the wall, you know.'  
  
'You think he can crawl with that leg?' the second challenged. He got up, walked towards the door, peered in through the growing smoke, and swore.  
  
'What is it?' the first said.  
  
'Looks as if I'm going to lose a good knife,' the second grumbled. 'He's crawling. Tough little bugger.'  
  
'Yah, the little rats are full of surprises,' the first agreed. A second later, he was sagging to the ground, for Fastred's arrow had found its mark, and before the other ruffian had time to react, Frodo's arrow struck.  
  
Before the ruffians had stopped twitching, Fastred said, 'Come on! There's not much time, the roof's alight!' They sprang from behind the concealing rocks and ran to the doorway, finding Ferdibrand just inside. Frodo took one arm, Fastred the other, and they dragged him free just as the roof sagged alarmingly and flaming boards began to fall.  
  
'Got to... get him under cover,' Fastred gasped. 'The fire might draw other ruffians.' Frodo nodded, and they dragged the chancellor to a jumble of rocks not far from the tower, wedging him under some brambles.  
  
'He's breathing,' Frodo said. 'Ferdi, can you hear me?' He unstoppered his water bottle, held it to the chancellor's mouth, but the water dribbled out again.  
  
'We'll have to leave him here,' Fastred said. 'There's still the matter of the trap the King is riding into.'  
  
Frodo nodded. 'The King can save Ferdi,' he said.  
  
'Yes, but first we've got to save the King,' Fastred said grimly. 'Come on.'  
  
They cautiously made their way to the top of the hill, creeping upwards so as not to show a silhouette to any watching eyes, and throwing themselves flat, they peered over the plain.  
  
'There,' Frodo pointed. The riders were much closer now, perhaps an hour away in Fastred's estimation.  
  
'Do you see the trap?' he asked. 'It will be well hidden, from the plain, but we ought to be able to catch a glimpse of them from up here.' They searched, until suddenly Frodo stiffened.  
  
He put his hand on Fastred's arm. 'There,' he breathed. 'They've gone to ground, don't know if there's a natural depression or they dug a ditch...'  
  
'Looks like a streambed,' Fastred said critically. 'The path runs alongside it, I think, but I didn't notice it when we came.'  
  
'The King might not notice it, then,' Frodo said. 'So the ruffians are under cover of the streambed...'  
  
'And we will conceal ourselves behind the ruffians...' Fastred said. 'There are too many for us to deal with. We'll have to hide and wait, warn the King's party, and then support them in the fight that follows.'  
  
'With three quivers of arrows between us, I think we can support them quite handily,' Frodo said bravely. He was still a little shaken over his first kill, the ruffian by the burning shed.  
  
They crept into position, arriving not long before Elessar and his guardsmen. From their vantage point above the stream, the hobbits could see the riders clearly now, Leotred on the saddle before a guardsman, another hobbit riding before the King--the Thain? Frodo caught his breath as he recognised his father, Mayor Sam, sharing Bergil's saddle. The Sun gleamed from a golden head, and Frodo realised that Legolas, Gimli riding behind him, was also a member of the King's party.  
  
'They're in a cave, partway up, on the northeastern side,' Leotred was saying as the rescue party approached the near hill. 'We thought it best to get Ferdi under cover...' His head jerked up at a sudden shrill _kee-kee-kee-kee_. 'Merlin!' he hissed, and shouted, 'Danger!'  
  
Instantly, Elessar swept his weapon out, his guards following suit. Belatedly, the ruffians erupted from the streambed beside them. The fight was fierce but brief, and at the end, one guardsman lay wounded, dragged from his horse and stabbed, and a horse was lamed. The King had a bruised arm from fending off a striking club, but otherwise the rescue party was relatively unscathed. Quite a few ruffians lay in the path, pierced by arrows, in addition to those slain by the guardsmen's swords, the scimitar wielded by the black-clad King of Haragost, the knives of Legolas, and Gimli's axe.  
  
Elessar slipped from his horse and lifted Leotred down. The hobbit was shaking with reaction, eyes wide with horror, and the King bent to address him.  
  
'Are you all right?' he said gently.  
  
Absently, the hobbit shook his head. 'I don't think so,' he said quietly, then met the King's eyes. 'It was necessary,' he said, his tone becoming more firm. 'They would have killed us without mercy.'  
  
'You have the right of it,' the King said, surprised once again, by a hobbit.  
  
Leotred took a deep breath, then lifted his head and called, 'Fas! Fas! Where are you?'  
  
'Here!' the answer came from a jumble of rocks, partway up the hillside from the streambed. The guardsmen looked up as two small figures slowly emerged from concealment.  
  
Frodo's face was pale, his eyes were wide, his hand holding the bow trembled as he stumbled down the hill. Fastred was grim-faced, and he steadied the younger hobbit several times before they reached the King's party.  
  
'Good shooting,' Elessar said quietly, and the Greenholmer jerked his head in a nod.  
  
'Frodo, are you all right?' Mayor Samwise said, moving to his son's side.  
  
'No, I don't think so,' Frodo muttered, passing a hand over his eyes. 'After hearing all your stories... the doing is so much worse...' His father put a comforting arm around his shoulders, and he leaned against the Mayor's solid support.  
  
'Thanks for the warning,' Leotred said. 'It came just in time.'  
  
'You were the merlin?' the King said. 'Clever idea.'  
  
'It was a signal Leot and I worked out, up on the moor, when we were lads,' Fastred said soberly. 'We mostly used it when carrying out mischief, or avoiding angry older sisters, or tag-along little brothers.'  
  
'Where's Ferdi?' Pippin said. Frodo swallowed hard and shot a look at Fastred. 'What's happened?' the Thain demanded, intercepting the look.  
  
'Those ruffians...' Fastred indicated the crumpled forms surrounding them, 'they got hold of him, before they laid this trap.'  
  
Pippin closed his eyes in grief. 'He's dead, then,' he said opening them again.  
  
'Not quite,' Fastred answered. 'At least, not when we left him.' He pointed up the hill. 'We concealed him near the base of the tower.'  
  
'Let us go to him then, at once,' Leotred said, but his brother stopped him.  
  
'We must go cautiously,' he said. 'That might not have been the only band of ruffians in the Tower Hills.'  
  
'Good point,' the King said. 'We will go, on our guard.' He had the bodies of the ruffians dragged into a place of concealment ("We shall bury them later"), ordered the rest of the guardsmen to dismount, sent scouts ahead and to the sides.   
  
They toiled silently up the hillside, the only sounds the heavy boots of the guardsmen, the clink of a horse's shoe against a stone, the jingle of a chain, towards the tower and the pall of smoke that still hung in the air nearby. Reaching the base of the tower, they skirted the burnt-out shed and came at last to the jumble of rocks and brambles where they'd left the chancellor.  
  
Fastred held Frodo back. 'Let Leot,' he said. Frodo nodded. Elessar posted guards while Leotred crawled beneath the concealing brambles.  
  
'He's alive,' his voice floated back. Fastred crawled after him, and together they pulled Ferdi out into the open. Pippin fell to his knees with a soft exclamation of shock and grief, but Leotred had already begun to work as Elessar bent closer.  
  
'Barbarians,' the King of Haragost said softly. 'They should have the skin flayed from their bodies, for work like this...' Elessar put a quelling hand on his shoulder, and he quieted, but his face was grim. That one of the little people, of the race of the one who had vanquished the Dark Lord, should be so served...  
  
Gimli saw with shock the ruin the ruffians had made of this hobbit who'd befriended him, and turned away, sickened. Legolas stared down at the chancellor, his face set in grim lines.  
  
'Just as I feared...' the hobbit healer said, once he had bandaged the damaged hands and turned to the broken leg, which had also suffered the attentions of the ruffians. He looked to the Thain. 'We've got to take the leg before it takes him.' He shook his head. 'I wish we had him in Greenholm, instead of this wild place, but he's nearly out of time.'  
  
'Take the leg...' Elessar said in a tone of protest. 'Why not try to save it?'  
  
'You can't save this kind of damage,' Leotred replied, surprised that a healer would ask such a question. 'Even if he didn't die of the infection, he'd never be able to use it again.'  
  
'And you know all there is to know about such things?' Elessar asked quietly.  
  
Leotred flushed. 'Of course I don't,' he said, 'but I helped Healer Woodruff take off a leg that was less damaged than this one.' He looked up at the King. 'If you have a better idea, I'd like to hear it.'  
  
'If we were in Minas Tirith,' the King said slowly, 'or Fornost, or Rivendell...' He gave a sharp exclamation. 'The Grey Havens! They're closer even than Greenholm, and the elves there have the same skills in healing as at Rivendell. As a matter of fact, I believe the sons of Elrond are there now, consulting with Cirdan.'  
  
Frodo gave a jerk. 'The Havens,' he said. 'That's what the ruffians said...'  
  
'What?' demanded the King. The hobbit turned haunted eyes to him.  
  
'They were waiting to join a larger group, several groups of ruffians, to attack the Grey Havens,' he said. 'They plan to kill the elves and take the harbours, and the ships, to become corsairs.'  
  
'Corsairs...' King Ha'alas said grimly. 'Just when we've rid ourselves of the Corsairs of Umbar, more plot to take their place.'  
  
'Preying on the ships supplying Fornost,' Elessar said, his face set.  
  
'Exactly,' Frodo said. ' "Fat, rich prey," they called it, "easy pickings" and that the elves would never be expecting attack.'  
  
'I think our ruffian friends are going to be wrong in this instance,' Elessar said grimly. 'We go to the Grey Havens, then, to warn the elves, and to try to save the chancellor's leg.' He picked Ferdi up as gently as he could, and led the way down the western side of the hill, towards the Sea.


	36. My Life's Breath is Failing

Notes to Readers:   
  
The Muse is plugging along at Merlin. The wedding on the Far Downs is written, can you believe it? ...in rough draft, at least, so stay with us through these current difficulties, the reward is coming...   
  
Thanks for the reviews! Very helpful, quite motivating.  
  
PansyChubb, ah, yes, the world is full of irony, isn't it? What did the ruffians do to Ferdi? You know, the way I write, I try to have every detail in place before a word goes on the page. So if you could see inside my head, you'd see myriad details that never make it into the writing (cause my stories would be ten times as long, or a hundred, for one thing, and nobody would read them, drowning in the details), just because I have to have a firm picture in my head before I can write. I do not want to write, specifically, what happened to Ferdi, as I take little pleasure in such graphic nastiness. Think about man's inhumanity to man, the tortures documented amongst the Japanese, Germans in their death camps, North Koreans, Afghans, Russians, Incas, Vietnamese, Apaches, Iraqis, US Cavalry (atrocities against Native Americans in the 1800s)... Just for starters: Think about your fingernails for a minute. Do I have to go into more detail than that?  
  
FantasyFan, do you know, I look forward to your reviews? I usually seem to learn something new about a character or a layer underneath the visible skin of writing. You are a treasure!  
  
Bookworm, not quite the same rush, but lots of angst in this chapter.  
  
runaround, hmmm. There's a thought. The sons of Elrond might be getting bored, without so many orcs to hunt and all.  
  
Aemilia Rose, elves are doing their best to help Ferdi. Now if he will just allow them to help. Stubborn, he is.  
  
Look for a new chapter to this story, if ff.net agrees, in two days. Warning: we have entered rough waters, and more breakers are ahead!  
  
Look for the newest chapter to "Flames", in case you are following that story, on the morrow. (Flames is finished, by the way, and I find the ending very satisfying even though I hated to end it!) Thank you for your patience.  
  


Two more stories are in the works. Look for them here at ffnet in a week or two if all goes well. The first is called "Shire" and contains my take on the history behind the founding of the Shire (hopefully more interesting than your run-of-the-mill history book). The second is called "FirstBorn" and takes place couple of years after "Flames" closes, nearly halfway between "Flames" and "Down and Out". In addition, Dana keeps nagging at me to write a few more of the stories I've told her about, but there is only just so much time in the world... (keep nagging, Dana... with my memory, I might forget about Pip and the Master's seal, or the "get lost" story, or Cellie's spider, or...)

  
***  
  
**36. My Life's Breath is Failing**  
  
Ferdi lay in the bed, the bad leg raised, pulled straight with a rope that went through a pulley on the ceiling and down to a weighted bag. His hands were encased in dressings, and the elves were doing something to the bad leg, Pippin couldn't quite make it out.  
  
'What are you doing to him?' Pippin whispered, and Elrohir looked up in surprise.  
  
'We are applying a steady pull on his leg,' the son of Elrond replied calmly, 'to allow the bones to heal in the proper position. The leg will heal straight, and he'll use it again.'  
  
Leotred said in wonder, 'A Shire healer would have taken the leg, with such damage.' He added to the Thain, 'They washed the wound with something, drenched it, actually, to rid it of infection, and then they put...'  
  
Pippin saw something white and crawling, and his stomach heaved. 'Maggots!' he exclaimed.  
  
'They're clean maggots,' Leotred defended. 'They'll take away any dead flesh and leave only the good, clean, living flesh to heal. I've never seen anything like it,' he said.  
  
Pippin looked to where Elessar sat beside Ferdi's bed, one hand on the hobbit's arm, the other on his forehead, his own head bowed in concentration.  
  
'There is much fear and sorrow here,' he said. 'The physical injuries are serious, but I think we have dealt with them adequately, and he has a good chance of healing. His spirit, however...'  
  
He looked to Frodo. 'Tell me what happened in the cave.'  
  
'He... he told me to hide myself when he heard the ruffians coming,' Frodo began.  
  
'Very wise.'  
  
'I could not drag him behind the rocks,' Frodo added, his voice anguished. Mayor Samwise put a comforting hand on his son's shoulder.  
  
'There was no time,' Elessar said gently, 'and with that leg... so, you hid.'  
  
'I hid,' Frodo said unsteadily, 'and the ruffians came, and they...' he hid his face in his hands. 'No,' he said.  
  
'Did they torture him?' the King asked quietly.  
  
'Torture...?' Frodo said behind his hands.  
  
'Did they hurt him, to try to get him to answer their questions?'  
  
Frodo nodded.  
  
'Did they break him?'  
  
'Break him?' Pippin asked.  
  
'Did he give them answers?'  
  
'Yes... no...' Frodo said, slowly lowering his hands from his face. 'He gave them answers, but not the ones they were looking for.'  
  
Lips thin with distaste at the questions he must ask, Elessar continued, 'Did he beg...?'  
  
'Yes!' Frodo sobbed, breaking down completely. 'Yes, he resisted them as long as he could, though they hurt him dreadfully, but finally, he... he begged them to stop, but that only made them laugh harder, and they told him to beg for death, and he did, but they kept on...'  
  
'O Frodo,' Sam breathed, taking his son in his arms, holding him as he sobbed.  
  
'They said they'd burn him alive,' Fastred added quietly. 'They took him to an old shed, propped him against the far wall, threw torches in and watched to see if he'd crawl out.'  
  
'They said they'd throw him back in,' Frodo whispered. 'They were laying wagers on the number of times he'd crawl out before the burning roof fell in on him.'  
  
'And he heard all this?' Elessar asked.  
  
'I do not know, I think he might've,' Frodo said. 'He was aware, when they set the fire, at least.'  
  
'He'd crawled nearly to the door of the shed when we pulled him out,' Fastred added.  
  
The King laid a hand on the hobbit's forehead. 'He is burning with fever,' he said. 'His time is short, I think.' He sighed. 'I can understand, now, why there is such a mantle of darkness wrapped about him.'  
  
Elladan brought the basin of steaming water close, and Elessar took two leaves from the pouch that hung from his neck, breathed upon them, and crushed them. Immediately a living fragrance stole through the room, lightening every heart. Even Frodo relaxed slightly in his father's arms, and breathed more deeply, thinking of warm spring days in the garden at home in Bag End. Elessar cast the leaves into the water, and then held the bowl before Ferdi's face.  
  
The hobbit stirred and opened his eyes. 'Who's there?' he asked. 'Elessar?'  
  
'It is I,' the King confirmed.  
  
Ferdi's eyes were wide with wonder. 'I know now why they call you King,' he said.  
  
'Do you?' Elessar smiled.  
  
'Healing hands... But why do we sit in the dark?' Ferdi murmured. 'You might light a lamp, at least...'  
  
The sons of Elrond started forward sharply, but the King held up a restraining hand.  
  
'What do you see?' he asked gently, waving a hand before the hobbit's eyes... eyes that did not follow the movement.  
  
'Why, nothing, of course,' Ferdi said. He lowered his voice. 'Have you put out the lamps that the others might sleep?'  
  
'It is not dark,' Elessar answered.  
  
'But it is!' Ferdi protested, trying to sit up against the restraining hands. 'Don't you see...?' The impact of his words struck him, and he sank back again, aghast.  
  
'Ferdi?' Pippin asked.  
  
'I... I don't see,' Ferdi said. 'That's it, isn't it?' His eyes had turned towards the Thain when Pippin spoke, but obviously did not find him. 'Pippin? Are you here?'  
  
'I'm here, Ferdi,' Pippin said, striding forward.  
  
'I'm walking alone in the dark, no one to hold my hand,' Ferdi mused. 'I can't even feel my hands,' he added.  
  
Pippin gripped his arm. 'You can feel this, though, can you not?' he said urgently. 'You're not alone, Ferdi.'  
  
'I have one leg left, I think,' Ferdi said quietly, as if listening to some tone chime deep inside himself. 'At least, I feel one. But my arms... are my hands gone, then?'  
  
'Not gone, but injured...' Elrohir began.  
  
'And my eyes will no longer greet the dawn,' Ferdi went on. 'All is darkness.' He sighed and repeated, 'Darkness.'  
  
'Ferdi,' Pippin said, but his cousin turned to him, face filled with despairing wonder.  
  
'Useless,' he said, 'I'm of no use to anyone, now.' He took a shallow breath. 'Why didn't you just let the flames take me?'  
  
'Ferdi,' Pippin said more urgently, but the other stopped him.  
  
'No,' Ferdi said, his tone final. 'There are no more words left to me. My tale is ended.' He turned his face away, then, and would not respond to anything more they said.  
  
***  
  
Merry sat quietly, hand on Ferdi's arm, talking of old times. He was determined not to let this friend from his childhood walk alone in the darkness, not even to his end.  
  
'...and do you remember the time, your father was training ponies at Paladin's farm, and we came to visit? Pippin was just a toddler at the time I think... and you and I took it into our heads to walk to Tuckborough?' He smiled at the recollection.  
  
'I remember we "borrowed" some fresh-baked tarts cooling on the windowsill, and took sharp sticks to ward off foxes, and went our merry way, whistling bravely, but when the tarts ran out, so did our nerve...'  
  
Elladan and Elrohir worked quietly over the healing leg, speaking in low tones in their own tongue.  
  
'I do not understand how they can choose death,' Elladan said. 'Their lives are so short as it is...'  
  
'It is the gift of Eru,' Elrohir answered, 'and not to be scorned.'  
  
'But...' Elladan said, troubled. He met his brother's eyes. 'Had you thought about... the choice?'  
  
'I have,' Elrohir said calmly.  
  
'And have you chosen?' Elladan pressed.  
  
'There's time yet,' Elrohir answered. 'The last ship has not sailed.'  
  
'Leave it to you to put off making a decision until the last minute,' his brother chided.  
  
'Have you chosen?' Elrohir said in reply. Elladan was silent, and the other chuckled. Merry looked up in surprise, and Elrohir inclined his head gravely. 'Forgive me, Master,' he said. 'I did not mean to interrupt your story.'  
  
Merry nodded, and went back to his reminiscing, though Ferdibrand gave no sign of hearing.  
  
***  
  
Fastred was pleading with his brother, but Leotred shook his head sadly. 'Fas, he's turned his face to the wall. What would you have me do?'  
  
'Talk to him,' Fastred said.  
  
'Others far wiser than I have already tried. He says nothing. I do not even know if he hears them.'  
  
Fastred shook his head in frustration. 'You found a dying merlin upon the moor and nursed it back to life, Leot. I think you could do almost anything, the way you have with healing.'  
  
'I have sworn to do no harm,' Leotred said.  
  
'What harm would there be?'  
  
'I will not force him to take drink, or food, to prolong his life,' Leotred said stubbornly. 'If he continues to refuse...'  
  
'What's the harm in talking? Talk to him, Leot. Please. Don't just let him slip away.'  
  
'No harm in talking, I suppose,' Leotred said slowly. 'Even the elves are still trying.'  
  
***  
  
Ferdi awakened to the sound of water trickling into a bowl, then a cool cloth was placed on his forehead. In spite of himself, he sighed.  
  
'Feel better?' Leotred's voice came. When Ferdi did not answer, he said, 'O yes, I'd forgot, you've used your last word and there are none left.'  
  
Ferdi felt the faintest stirring of annoyance, but it was really too much trouble, and so he let it go again.  
  
'Would you care for a drink? You must be perishing of thirst by now,' Leotred said, and Ferdi felt his head lifted, a cup held to his lips. He turned his face away.  
  
'No,' he said, faintly.  
  
'Ah,' Leot said brightly. 'So you did have a word left. Perhaps more than one?'  
  
'Leave me,' Ferdi said.  
  
'The way you left your father alone, all those years, eh?' Leot said. 'He was useless, too, arms and legs burned away in that fire. They should have just left him, would have saved all sorts of trouble... no need for you to visit him for hours each day, hold long conversations, feed his meals to him.'  
  
'Curse you,' Ferdi whispered, to stop the flow of words.  
  
'Is that the best you can do?' Leot said. 'I've had far worse flung at me, by folk worse off in the bargain.'  
  
Ferdi heard Leotred shift in his chair, as if he were leaning forward. 'Fastred is beside himself, you know,' he said. 'He says it's like losing our father all over again.'  
  
'I'm not his father,' Ferdi said.  
  
'No, you're not, but you recklessly spent your friendship upon us, and you cannot expect us to sit by while you slip away like this...' He shifted again, and Ferdi heard the clink of spoon against bowl. Leotred went on, 'Because there are no more words on the page, you expect us to close the book without looking to see if there are any more pages?' The clinking sound came again.  
  
'I know you like your breakfast hot, and this just came from the boil a few minutes ago, so let us hope you do not scald your tongue,' Leotred said. Ferdi heard the spoon stirring. 'Lovely porridge, laced with cream and honey, want to try a bit?'  
  
The spoon touched his lips, and despite himself he opened his mouth to allow its entry, finding it delicious after so many meals missed, swallowing it down without thinking.  
  
'That's right,' Leotred said softly, 'and how about a sip of good tea to wash it down?' The cup was held to Ferdi's lips again, and he swallowed. With any luck, he'd choke to death, but no such good fortune was about to strike this moment, it seemed.  
  
The Thain watched silently from the doorway as Leotred coaxed the entire bowlful of porridge, and most of the tea, into Ferdibrand, and then settled him to sleep.  
  
'There, now,' Leotred said. 'And Mayor Sam's making his famous mushroom soup for elevenses, and Fastred's out hunting coneys for pie, so you'd better get used to eating again, for we're going to wave it under your nose until the delicious smell conquers your senses.'  
  
Ferdi made no answer, simply shut his unseeing eyes and breathed deeply. A single tear traced its way down one cheek.  
  
***  
  
Pippin and Samwise entered later, with the promised soup.  
  
'I don't want any,' Ferdi said before they reached the bed. That was an improvement; at least he was talking.  
  
'You have to eat,' Pippin said.  
  
'No,' Ferdi answered. 'No, I don't.'  
  
'Elladan says that the leg is looking better already, and the hands...' Sam said.  
  
'I cannot feel them,' Ferdi said. 'Funny, how alone it can make you feel.'  
  
'You're not alone, Ferdi,' Pippin said.  
  
'O yes,' Ferdi replied, in a distant tone. 'Quite. And it would be kind of you to leave me that way.'  
  
Pippin was nearing his wits' end, and he said desperately, 'And what of your Nell? Will you leave her alone in her grief just as her first husband did? Do you remember how she nearly died when he did?'  
  
Ferdi's face remained turned away, and after a few breaths he spoke. 'She's stronger now...' he said, but his voice sounded uncertain.  
  
'She needs you, Ferdi, like a flower needs the light,' Pippin said. 'Your love keeps her green and growing.'  
  
'It's dark, Pip,' Ferdi whispered. 'No light left.'  
  
Pippin's hand tightened on his arm, fingers unconsciously digging in, and the chancellor yelped. 'It's not enough the ruffians hounded me to my end, but now you must torment me in my last hours?'  
  
'These are not your last hours,' Pippin gritted. 'Fight, Ferdi. You are not dying.'  
  
'Are you going to order me to stay?' the other said, turning his head restlessly on the pillow. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. 'And what will you do if I disobey? Put me under the ban? Have me bound and blindfolded and carried over the Bounds... no, wait, that's been done already.'  
  
Legolas had entered behind the others, and now he laid a slender hand on the chancellor's forehead, saying, 'Take some of my light, Ferdibrand. I offer it freely.' Pippin had not even heard the elf come in, but now Legolas looked to him and said. 'Elessar wants to see you. I will watch.'


	37. A Battle Arose

Notes to Readers:   
  
The Muse is plugging along at Merlin. The wedding on the Far Downs is written, can you believe it? ...in rough draft, at least, so stay with us through these current difficulties, the reward is coming...   
  
Thanks for the reviews! Very helpful, quite motivating.  
  
Aemilia Rose, help is on the way.  
  
runaround, yes, the last few chapters have been depressing, as difficult to read, I suspect, as they were to write. More so, even, because I know the ending and you do not... but hang in there.  
  
Cassaclyzm, welcome! I think there's an extra chair over there; Xena, dear, would you please move that pile of books and papers? Thank you, love. How do you take your tea, Cassa? And do help yourself to teacakes, there are plenty more where those came from.  
  
FantasyFan, a masterful analysis, many many thanks. I so appreciate your insights. Also, I like the analogy to card-playing, it paints a very clear picture of motivation and strategy. And you caught the innuendos! I'm so glad, I wondered if anyone would notice that Frodo didn't know the meaning of the word "torture", and that Pippin wasn't sure, either, exactly what the King meant. BTW, Celandine from "SpiderWebs" is the same as Celandine in "Merlin". SpiderWebs is simply an expansion on the story Pippin tells Regi in chapter 19.  
  
PansyChubb, you asked the same question as FantasyFan. I hope the answer will come clear in time. If not, you will just have to wait until the next story (the one about Goldilocks and Faramir, which does not yet have a working title but is already outlined and ready to be written).  
  
Xena! Welcome back! *hug* (if I may be so bold). We saved your chair, dear. Someone stuck their head in and, thinking it "extra", tried to drag it off to shirebound's parlour, which is quite crowded, but we wouldn't let them have it. We knew you'd be back. I like the way you "hit the highlights" with your comments; your reactions are very helpful as well.  
  
Look for a new chapter to this story, if ff.net agrees, in two days. Warning: we have entered rough waters, and more breakers are ahead in this chapter! However, there might be a break in the clouds ahead... (peering intently)  
  
Look for the newest chapter to "Flames", in case you are following that story, on the morrow. (Flames is finished, by the way, and I find the ending very satisfying even though I hated to end it!) Thank you for your patience.  
  


Two more stories are in the works. Look for them here at ffnet in a week or two if all goes well. The first is called "Shire" and contains my take on the history behind the founding of the Shire (hopefully more interesting than your run-of-the-mill history book). The second is called "FirstBorn" and takes place couple of years after "Flames" closes, nearly halfway between "Flames" and "Down and Out". In addition, Dana keeps nagging at me to write a few more of the stories I've told her about, but there is only just so much time in the world... (keep nagging, Dana... with my memory, I might forget about Pip and the Master's seal, or the "get lost" story, or Cellie's spider, or...)  
  
NEWS FLASH: Cellie's spider got written into a story, and is posted at ff.net with the title "SpiderWebs", just in case you were interested.  
  
***  
  
**37. A Battle Arose**  
  
'Ruffians? Coming here? They have never disturbed us before,' Cirdan said slowly.  
  
'They have been growing bolder,' Elessar answered, 'so bold as to venture into the Shire, despite the watchers at the borders, to carry off Halflings.'  
  
'So I had heard,' the old shipwright said, though "old" was perhaps not the proper word to use, Fastred thought. Ancient and youthful at once, ageless, perhaps. 'Do you think they have the numbers to attack both harbours?'  
  
'We must not take any chances,' the King said. 'Notify all your elves to be on alert.'  
  
'The guardsmen?'  
  
'We can split them between the two harbours; I've also sent a messenger back across the plain, to the outpost near Greenholm. We'll receive reinforcements from the nearest outposts fairly soon, if they do not run into ruffians on the way, and a large body will be on the way from Fornost as soon as the message reaches the garrison there.'  
  
'In the meantime we must prepare ourselves for attack. A siege does not worry me; we have ample supplies and springs of fresh water within the walls...'  
  
'I do not think that ruffians would besiege you; theirs is the quick strike, the surprise, with hope to overwhelm.'  
  
'When can we expect them?' Cirdan said, and the King looked to Frodo.  
  
'They said,' he replied hesitatingly... 'They were waiting for a signal, to join with other groups into a large whole, to march under cover of darkness, hide through the day, strike between middle night and the dawn.'  
  
'They'll strike sooner than later, I think,' Elrohir said, 'especially if they had any word of the battle between that band of ruffians and your guardsmen.'  
  
The others nodded, and Elladan added, 'They will be hoping that the guardsmen will come to the conclusion that they encountered an isolated band, but they will take no chances that more guardsmen might be called to scour the area for ruffians.'  
  
Cirdan nodded. 'I think you have the right of it. So the attack could come as early as this night.'  
  
'We must be ready,' Elessar confirmed.  
  
'We will be,' Cirdan said. He turned to the elf beside him. 'Send word to the other harbour, to prepare for attack any time after darkness falls.' The other nodded and was swiftly gone.  
  
'How can we help?' Pippin asked.  
  
'Your bows will be of use, I think,' Cirdan said. 'You Halflings can conceal yourselves, lie upon the rooftops, perhaps, shoot from cover any that try to come over the walls.'  
  
The Thain made a wry face. 'I am not much of an archer,' he said. 'I am better with a sword than a bow, I fear.'  
  
'I have heard of your valour in battle,' the shipwright said gravely. 'As a Knight of Gondor, I would expect to find you by the side of your King.'  
  
Pippin nodded. 'Just like old times, eh, Strider?' he said, a grin lighting his face. 'Only this time, we're both on the same side of the wall.' He eyed the King. 'Unless you'd like to sail into the battle as you did once. They even have ships here, quite handy.'  
  
'Just like old times,' Elessar replied, a smile lighting his own face. 'I think I can leave out the ship, this time.'  
  
'Very well, Strider; I shall follow your lead,' the Thain said graciously.  
  
The King inclined his head. 'Be sure that you do,' he said.  
  
***  
  
Fastred watched the bustle of preparations in wonder. 'I thought these elves half in a dream when we met them,' he said to Frodo. 'They never seemed to be in a hurry about anything, even about Ferdi...'  
  
'It seems they are capable of haste,' Frodo answered. He felt rather small and useless, but Bergil had assured him that when the time came for battle, size was no matter. 'When do we seek the rooftop?'  
  
'After dark,' Fastred answered. 'If ruffians are watching, they won't see us climb up, and we shall have an element of surprise.'  
  
'Ruffians are very fond of surprises,' Frodo said.  
  
'Not this one, I warrant,' Fastred answered.  
  
'How's Ferdi?' Frodo asked.  
  
'Leot's with him now. He's stopped eating again, though I think they were able to get him to take some water.' Fastred sighed. 'He's convinced that he will be a hopeless burden, unable to use his hands, or his eyes, or to walk...'  
  
'Funny,' Frodo mused.  
  
'Funny?' Fastred said, incensed.  
  
'No, not in that way,' Frodo said hastily. 'It's just that... his own father was badly burned in a fire, and lived for years afterwards without the use of his arms and legs. I never heard Uncle Ferdi grumble about the "burden" of caring for him. Why would he not extend the same grace to us?'  
  
'I do not know,' Fastred said, troubled. 'I only know that if you take a wild hawk, tie it down, cover its eyes with a hood, it'll pine for the sky and even will itself to die. Leot had to release the merlin he nursed as soon as it was able to fly, or it would have died, I think. You have to take a hawk from the nest when it's still young, to be able to tame it to sit on a perch and fly from your arm.'  
  
'Ferdi's not young, but he's always been young at heart,' Frodo said. 'If only...'  
  
'I know,' Fastred said, clenching his hands into fists. 'I know,' he repeated, then reached around to take his quiver from his back. 'Might as well check your arrows,' he said. 'I think we'll put them to good use this night.'  
  
***  
  
At dusk, Gimli and Legolas found the hobbits sitting together, soberly sharing a meal.  
  
'Who is watching with Ferdibrand?' the elf asked in surprise.  
  
'Elrohir,' the Thain replied. His face was strained. Though by custom he must accept Ferdi's decision, it did not mean he had peace with the chancellor's choice. 'He told us to leave Ferdi alone, let him sleep.'  
  
'It is time for the archers to seek the rooftops,' the elf said. 'Merry, you're to take charge of the young hobbits. Samwise, stay with Gimli; you may end up fighting back-to-back as you did in Moria should enough ruffians come over the walls, and your fighting styles complement one another, as I recall.'  
  
'It has been a long time,' the Mayor began, but the dwarf interrupted him with a slap on the back.  
  
'Your arm never forgets the axe or the sword... or the frypan, for that matter,' he chuckled. 'We shall show these ruffians a trick or two they've not seen before.'  
  
'Pippin, Elessar awaits you,' Legolas continued.  
  
'Who am I to keep a King waiting?' Pippin said lightly, dusting the crumbs from his fingers as he rose, but the sorrow did not leave his countenance.  
  
'Two kings,' Gimli said, 'but let us not quibble over minor details.'  
  
'Do you have the mail shirt?' Samwise asked, stopping Pippin with a hand on his arm.  
  
'You really ought to be wearing it yourself; Frodo left it to you,' Pippin answered.  
  
'Are you wearing it?' Sam pressed, and Pippin nodded.  
  
'Good,' Sam said, and stepped back. The others watched the Thain go. 'I'm worried about him,' he added, when Pippin was out of earshot.  
  
'You're not the only one, but this is neither the time nor the place,' Merry said so low that he had to strain his ears to catch the words. Raising his voice, the Master of Buckland added, 'Come on, lads, while there are elves handy to boost us up onto the thatch. I don't fancy having to jump the distance.'  
  
'Take care,' Sam said to Frodo with a nod to his eldest son.  
  
'You too, Dad,' Frodo answered, trying to grin. He turned away to trot after the others.  
  
'A roof's a good place for him,' Gimli said reassuringly. 'At least he'll be out of reach of the ruffians.'  
  
'I hope so,' Sam said. He and Gimli stationed themselves in the shadow of an overhang, not far from the wall, where they could watch for ruffians.  
  
The elves had taken most of the ships out of the harbour, anchoring them beyond swimming range, though a few ships in varying stages of construction remained in their cradles, affording cover to elvish archers.  
  
Cirdan's people and the visitors waited through the long hours between dusk and middle night. Watchers paced behind the thick walls, looking over into the darkness, ready to sound the alarm at the first sign of invaders.  
  
Waiting on the rooftop with a few elves, Frodo noticed buckets of water being handed up from the ground. 'What's that for?' he whispered to Fastred.  
  
'Fire,' the other answered. 'Hadn't you noticed we're lying on thatch?'  
  
The thought had not occurred to Frodo before, that the ruffians might set the roofs alight in the heat of battle.  
  
'A few buckets... to put out a thatch roof?' he said sceptically, his heart pounding a little faster. 'Are they serious?'  
  
'A few buckets, to buy us time to escape being roasted, should the worst come to pass,' Leotred answered.  
  
'Hush, now,' Merry said, and the younger hobbits were again quiet.  
  
There was a sudden yell from the wall, and then the twang of a bowstring and a scream from without. 'They're coming at the wall!' a watcher shouted.  
  
The ruffians fell back, their first plan, to quietly steal over the walls at various points and slaughter the sleeping elves, stymied. Their chiefs quickly rallied them, and holding shields before them, they came at the walls again, throwing up ladders and swarming up faster than the ladders could be pushed back.  
  
'I thought ruffians came in small groups,' Fastred gasped. 'There must be hundreds!'  
  
'This has been a long time in the planning,' Legolas said from beyond him. 'Some are winning their way over, let us busy ourselves.'  
  
They plied their bows, picking off ruffians at the top of the ladders, but by sheer force of numbers some were winning through, albeit facing stiff resistance from sword-wielding elves inside the walls. One ruffian chieftain directed his archers to fire flaming arrows over the wall, into the roofs, and soon the hobbits found themselves beating out flames rather than shooting. Meanwhile, more ruffians came over the wall, and Cirdan saw their objective: the gates.  
  
He pointed, and Elessar nodded, throwing his guardsmen into the fray. If the ruffians reached the gates and threw them open to their fellows outside, the battle might go against the defenders. At the moment they were barely holding the determined invasion at bay.  
  
King Ha'alas sang and swung his scimitar, his face bright with the joy of battle, and Samwise saw why the Southrons were so feared and respected in Gondor. One warrior, pitted against many, and yet any that dared come within reach fell beneath his shining blade.  
  
'Let us not just stand here, m'boy,' Gimli shouted. 'Looks as if there's plenty to choose from... come along!' Sam held Sting at the ready as the two moved into the mêlée.  
  
'Time to get down,' Legolas sang as he emptied the last of the buckets onto the burning thatch. 'There's a clear path here, follow me!' He counted the hobbits as they slid off the roof into his arms, nodding in satisfaction as the Master came down, last of the archers. 'Good,' he said. 'Find a sheltered spot and keep shooting.'  
  
Elrohir was bent over a wounded elf, staunching the flow of blood when he heard his brother's voice. 'Who's with the halfling?' Elladan said. 'I thought you were watching him.'  
  
'He was safe enough,' Elrohir answered. 'Cirdan called me away to tend the wounded. No one's going to get into the infirmary, it's too well defended.'  
  
'No ruffian, perhaps, but the flames will,' Elladan said grimly. 'The roofs are all alight, if you hadn't noticed.' He put out a hand to stay the other. 'I'll go,' he said. 'You have your hands full here.' Elrohir nodded his thanks, turning back to his patient as Elladan sprinted towards the burning buildings.  
  
***  
  
Ferdi jerked awake, feeling hands on his bad leg. 'What is it?' he said.  
  
Elladan's voice answered, cool, somehow amused, detached, though his hands worked swiftly. 'It seems I must move you from your bed, master chancellor.'  
  
'Why?' Ferdi demanded, not that he cared all that much, mind, but he could still ask questions, couldn't he?  
  
'The roof is alight,' the son of Elrond said. 'I do not know that we will be able to fight the fire and the ruffians at the same time, so I thought to carry you to a safer place.'  
  
Ferdi felt the pull on his leg lessen, and then Elladan gently lowered his injured limb to the bed.  
  
'On the other hand,' the son of Elrond said, 'I forgot that you had turned your face to the wall, and were not interested in living any longer.' A blanket was swiftly wrapped around Ferdi. 'You even told your fellows that they ought to have let the flames have you.'  
  
Ferdi remained stubbornly silent.  
  
'Here's your chance,' Elladan said.  
  
'What do you mean?' Ferdi was stung to ask.  
  
'I can leave you here, let the flames take you this time, save you and everyone else a lot of trouble.'  
  
'You wouldn't!' was forced out of the hobbit.  
  
'It is time for you to choose... I have much to do as it is, it would be no trouble to leave you here if that is truly what you wish.'  
  
Ferdi was stunned to silence, but the elf went on, relentless.  
  
'Make your choice, master chancellor. What shall it be? Life? or death?'  
  
'Life,' Ferdi said hastily, and the son of Elrond chuckled. Ferdi felt himself lifted carefully in the other's arms.  
  
'I had hoped you would choose wisely,' Elladan answered.  
  
The son of Elrond moved smoothly, bearing Ferdi so easily that he felt no pain in his leg, but suddenly there was a jar; Elladan stumbled, it seemed, and sank down, still holding Ferdi securely. His breath came now in gasps.  
  
'Elladan, what's happened?' Ferdi demanded.  
  
'We will... rest here,' Elladan answered.  
  
'Are you injured?' the hobbit said urgently, feeling the other tremble beneath him.  
  
'Do not be so quick to give up your life, little one,' the son of Elrond murmured, his words strangely laboured. 'Each day is a feast to be savoured...' He gave an odd sort of cough and was silent.  
  
'Elladan?' Ferdi said, twisting to touch the son of Elrond with his bandaged hand. 'Elladan?'  
  
All around them the sounds of battle raged: shouting and screaming, the clash of steel on steel, the roar of hungry flames...  
  
Elrohir had been correct, Ferdi's fingers were healing. He was able to fumble his way across the other's body, though it cost him in terms of knifelike pain at the ends of his fingers. He felt his way, stopping only when one hand encountered the protruding shaft.  
  
'Elladan?' he whispered. There was no answer. The bandages on his hands prevented him from checking for life, but he hoped that the slight rise and fall of the other's chest against his ear was not mere fancy on his part.  
  
Groping further, he explored the body until he found the long knife hanging from the belt. Carefully drawing this weapon--yes, his fingers definitely were working better, he was able to grasp and pull, ignoring the pain--he settled back to await further developments.  
  
If possible, the battle sounds seemed to be increasing in intensity. Ferdi listened intently, trying to follow the action with his ears. When he'd been a little hobbit, he had played a game of closing his eyes and trying to make pictures in his head of his surroundings, just from what he could hear and smell and feel. This practice stood him in good stead now, as a picture of the battle rose in his mind's eye.  
  
Ruffians were coming over the walls now, he thought, being beaten back for the most part by elves and guardsmen, but the fighting was fierce and the defenders, it seemed, might be falling back. The buildings behind him were fully involved now, the hungry flames roaring in triumph as they consumed their prey. Ferdi shuddered in spite of himself; he'd be in the midst of that inferno, if not for Elladan.  
  
He listened tensely, long knife down by his side, hearing heavy footsteps stop before him. Friend or foe? A friend would have spoken at once, uttering words of concern... He waited, counting on the ruffians' natural contempt for others, waited for the gloating words he felt sure would come.  
  
He was not disappointed. 'What have we here?' a rough voice sneered, coming nearer as the ruffian bent down to finish them off. 'A little rat and a big one...'  
  
Ferdi struck just below the source of the voice, was rewarded by a gurgling noise, and then a heavy weight fell across his legs, causing him to cry out. He renewed his grip upon the hilt of the long knife, jerked it free, and waited.


	38. Pleasant Rest, Beloved Soul's Desire

Notes to Readers:   
  
Merlin is finished, all 46 chapters. I hope you will enjoy it as much as I did. Will keep posting every other day until finished, then start posting a new story.   
  
Thanks for the reviews! Very helpful, quite motivating.  
  
Hmmmm. Ferdi really seems to be a tough guy. Blind, crippled, he can still take out the bad guys... Do I hear a movie deal in the works? Who should play him? Sly Stallone? Arno? Somehow neither really fits my mental picture of him. Did I tell you I saw him IRL, after I began writing him? Or someone who was the spitting image, anyhow. He was playing the part of Enjolas in "Les Mis" when it came to town not long ago...  
  
Aemilia Rose, I do believe you will find the answers to your questions in the current chapter.  
  
runaround, keep hanging in there. Find more about Elladan, below.  
  
Aratfeniel, yes, he did choose wisely, even if he was forced into it rather rapidly. Talk about high-pressure sales...  
  
FantasyFan, good recap. I know you are very worried about Ferdi, but remember, he has the "luck of the Tooks" going for him. And Dana did help me talk myself out of killing off "a major OC" a few weeks ago... this story might have come out very different if not for her listening ear. Your comments are very welcome. I am glad you do not think me a formulaic, predictable writer. I am afraid of gaining that reputation, the way I keep getting characters into (and out of) scrapes. But I suppose they can get a lot of credit for being tough and resourceful.  
  
PansyChubb, thank you for the kind words. The fact that others like to read my stories, and say so, keeps the words flowing. Amazing connection. Remember that Ferdi is a hobbit very concerned with honour. If he has given his word, he will not go back on it if he can help it.  
  
Xena, your favourite place? I am honoured, and humbled. Will try to keep living up to your expectations. (Merry has always been my favourite hobbit, but I think it is now a three-way tie between him, Pippin, and Ferdi.) Thanks for giving your reactions as the chapter progressed.  
  
Dana, your help is paying off... Ferdi is coming through the crisis. Whew. Whatever would have happened to Elladan, had Ferdi died on the Tower Hills?  
  
Look for a new chapter to this story, if ff.net agrees, in two days. Angst forecast: Angst seems to be easing off just a bit.  
  
Look for the newest chapter to "Flames", in case you are following that story, on the morrow. (Flames is finished, by the way, and I find the ending very satisfying even though I hated to end it!) Thank you for your patience.  
  
Continuing to write new material, slowly, in the new stories "Shire" and "FirstBorn". Please keep reviewing, it greases the writing wheels. (Ain't I pathetic? Say it ain't so!)  
  
***  
  
**38. Pleasant Rest, Beloved Soul's Desire**  
  
The battle ebbed and flowed through the night, ruffians falling back and regrouping to assault the walls with fresh vigour. At one point, a group of ruffians fought their way to the gates, nearly undoing the heavy bars and bolts before the defenders rallied to cut them down.  
  
More than once, Gimli saved Samwise from a ruffian's blow, and more than once the Mayor repaid the favour.  
  
The hobbits shot from cover until they spent all their arrows, then dashed out to recover arrows that had fallen within the wall. The ruffians' arrows were longer, perhaps, but they worked the same as hobbits', if a bit awkward to launch.  
  
Two of the cradled ships were in flames now, together with the burning buildings lending a light brighter than hundreds of torches to the battle scene. By this light, Cirdan directed his elves, and Elessar threw his guardsmen to their support wherever needed.  
  
The young king of Haragost fought as a law unto himself, singing and slaying, bright joy on his face as he offered the lives of his enemies a holy prayer to his Maker. The ruffians began to avoid him, edging away, blundering into the swords of elves and guardsmen in their fear of the Southron.  
  
Shortly before dawn came a last desperate assault on the part of the ruffians, and then the battle was over as suddenly as it had begun. Eerie silence descended over the harbour, save the crackle of the flames and the sound of walls of the burning buildings beginning to fall in, the moans of the wounded, the cry of the gulls and the steady pulse of the Sea.  
  
Swords were wiped and sheathed, bows were lowered, stumbling warriors rested from their labours, while healers began to search for life amongst the fallen. Elessar tended Pippin's bruises, for though the mithril coat had stopped an arrow or two, and turned at least one blade, the force behind the blows had still done some damage. Samwise had one arm bound up in a sling as he came up to them. 'Just a scratch,' he said, turning away Pippin's concern. Looking at the bruises that were being smeared with arnica, he said, 'Good thing you were wearing the mithril coat.'  
  
'Many thanks to you, and to Frodo as well,' Pippin said. 'Wish I could thank him personally.'  
  
'You're not the only one,' Sam said quietly. Thankfully, the archers had escaped unscathed, as they had kept mostly to the shadows when not scrounging for arrows.  
  
Elrohir paused before Cirdan and Elessar. 'Have you seen Elladan?' he asked. 'He was to fetch the injured halfling to safety, but I have not seen him since.'  
  
Elessar started. 'I did not see him in the battle after the roofs were fired,' he said.  
  
'He was with Ferdibrand?' the Thain demanded, running the back of his hand across his forehead.  
  
'He was to take him from the burning infirmary,' Elrohir said soberly. 'If he fell before he reached Ferdibrand...'  
  
'That does not bear thinking,' Elessar said quietly. 'Let us search. Undoubtedly he bore Ferdibrand to a place of safety before returning to the fray.' They scattered, looking amongst the bodies.  
  
It was Pippin who found them, half buried under several ruffians. 'Elladan?' he gasped. The mound stirred, and he heard Ferdi say, 'Pip, is that you?'  
  
Gimli jumped to his side to help him pull away the bodies, revealing Ferdibrand, still in Elladan's grasp, long knife clutched in his bandaged hand. He raised the knife, blade wavering. 'Who is it?' Ferdi asked.  
  
'Ferdi, it's Pippin,' the Thain answered. 'Put down the weapon before you hurt somebody.'  
  
'Too late,' the chancellor said practically. 'I've already hurt several somebodies as it is.' He raised his head as if looking up at the son of Elrond who cradled him, even unconscious. 'Elladan,' he said. 'It's all right now.' To Pippin, he said, 'I think I can feel him breathing.'  
  
'Elrohir! Cirdan!' Gimli shouted, waving his axe over his head. The twain broke into a run at the summons, falling to their knees before Elladan. Elrohir put out a careful hand. 'He lives,' he said.  
  
Cirdan said gravely, 'It appears, master chancellor, that he owes his life to you.'  
  
'We're even, then,' Ferdi said, 'for I owe mine to him as well.' He took a deep breath of the smoky air. 'Is there any breakfast?' he asked.  
  
Cirdan smiled faintly. 'I think we can arrange something,' he answered.  
  
'Good,' Ferdi said. 'I'm famished.'   
  
He was lifted carefully, taken to another bed in an intact building, his leg again pulled straight by rope, pulley and weight.  
  
Leotred brought him breakfast, along with the welcome news that Elladan would likely survive his wound. Ferdi found that he could feed himself the porridge if he just pretended his eyes were closed, and soon he settled back, replete, sipping at a mug of hot, milky tea.  
  
'Where were you in the battle?' he asked the young healer.  
  
'We started by shooting from the rooftops,' Leotred answered.  
  
'Good,' Ferdi said.  
  
'Good?' Leotred was puzzled.  
  
'Yes, you had a good vantage point. I want you to tell me everything you saw,' Ferdi said. Halfway through the recitation, the Thain came in and silently settled himself by the bed. When he spoke, the chancellor gave a jerk.  
  
'When did you get here?' he said irritably.  
  
'A few moments ago,' Pippin replied.  
  
'You might have had the courtesy to announce yourself, then,' Ferdi reproved.  
  
Pippin nodded, remembered then that Ferdi could not see the gesture, though the eyes seemed to look directly at him. 'I will keep that in mind, in the future,' he said.  
  
Ferdi gave a nod. 'See that you do,' he answered.  
  
The recitation went on, but at one point, when Ferdi asked a question of Pippin, Leotred saw that the Thain had fallen asleep in his chair, and told the chancellor as much.  
  
'Let him sleep, then,' Ferdi said. 'As a matter of fact, I think I could do with a nap, myself. Is it day, or is it night, at the moment?'  
  
'Day,' Leotred answered.  
  
'Convenient,' Ferdi said. 'You won't need to blow out a lamp.' He closed his eyes. 'Don't know why I even bother,' he sighed. 'Just as dark with my eyes open.'  
  
'Ferdi...' Leotred began.  
  
'Leave me be,' Ferdi said, and yawned. 'Don't you know you're supposed to let your patients sleep when they're tired?'  
  
***  
  
The hobbits took turns sitting with Ferdibrand, talking quietly or singing, or sitting in silence, a hand on his arm to reassure him that he was not alone. One day Pippin did not come at his appointed time, Merry came instead, and Ferdi said, 'Where's the Thain?'  
  
'Strider stuck him in a bed,' Merry answered. 'Seems he's come down with a fever.' He eased Ferdi back against the pillows, for the other had stiffened in alarm at the news. 'Don't try to sit up; remember, your leg is still tied to the ceiling.'  
  
'How could I forget?' Ferdi said wryly. 'A fever? I do not like the sound of that. Was he wounded in the battle?'  
  
'No,' Merry said, 'but he has been fretting, burdened with worry for weeks and it is finally catching him up.'  
  
Ferdi was silent, thinking, and when he finally spoke, he said, 'He hasn't sounded right, the last few times he's sat with me... is it that he cannot face the wreck I've become?'  
  
'You think entirely too much about your own troubles, Ferdi,' Merry said sharply. 'I'd hardly call you a wreck. So you cannot see with your eyes... half the hobbits with eyes are too stupid to use them properly as it is.'  
  
Ferdi heard Merry take a sharp breath, then say softly, as if grieved, 'I beg your pardon, Ferdi, that was unconscionable.'  
  
'What is the matter with Pippin?' Ferdi asked.  
  
'You're right, this is all about Pippin,' Merry admitted, and fell silent again.  
  
'Well?' Ferdi said. 'Are you still there?'  
  
Merry's hand found his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. 'I am here,' he said. 'But as to what is the matter... Pippin is making noises as if he's thinking of stepping down from the Thainship.'  
  
'Stepping down? Is that possible?' Ferdi asked.  
  
'Theoretically,' Merry said. 'Of course, with Faramir underage, it's anyone's guess as to who'd be Thain after him. Reginard's too ill, at the moment. Everard... it would be a waste to take the chief engineer from his duties, to make him Thain. You...?'  
  
'Hah,' was all Ferdi said.  
  
'If I am not careful I might find myself proclaimed Thain,' Merry said wryly.  
  
'But you're not a Took!' Ferdi protested, then thought again. 'O yes... I'd forgot, you are, half Took, anyhow.' He thought a moment, then mused, 'I suppose... it would be possible to get along without a Thain at all...?'  
  
'What do you mean?' Merry said.  
  
'Well, the Mayor is in charge of the Message Service and the Shirriffs. The Thain is in charge of the Shiremoot. When was the last time we mustered the hobbits of the Shire, anyhow? The King's guardsmen keep the riffraff out.'  
  
'The Thain does much more, and you know it,' Merry said hotly.  
  
'I know it,' Ferdi sighed. 'I was just trying to let my poor cousin off the hook, but I'm afraid he wouldn't have the sense to swim free; he'd just lunge at the hook again, soon's it dropped into the stream. Lad has no sense of self-preservation, whatsoever.'  
  
'He puts everyone else before himself.'  
  
'It is what makes him a great Thain, and it is his greatest weakness, as well,' Ferdi said thoughtfully. 'But he has borne up under it all this time... what's happened?' A look of pain crossed his face. 'I've let him down, I know.'  
  
Merry stared at Ferdibrand, open-mouthed. The other was blaming himself for being caught and nearly killed by ruffians. 'You shouldn't give yourself so much credit, Ferdi,' he replied. 'Such conceit... as if the whole Shire turns upon whether or not you are there to support the Thain.'  
  
It was Ferdi's turn to be stunned silent, but then he surprised Merry by laughing.  
  
'What is it?' Merry said.  
  
'You...' Ferdi said. 'I did not think I could bear to live, as an object of pity. How refreshing, not to be pitied; to suffer insult, for that matter!'  
  
'You're most welcome,' Merry said dryly.  
  
***  
  
The reinforcements had arrived from the outposts the day after the battle, and two days after that, a large body came from Fornost. Some were put to the work of helping the elves rebuild and repair what damage could be taken care of fairly quickly, while others formed scouting parties, going off in search of any surviving ruffians.  
  
The other harbour had been spared attack. Cirdan suspected that the ruffians had massed all their numbers on the one harbour, hoping for a quick victory, after which they could have attacked the second harbour by ship as well as by land. Thankfully their plan had been knocked awry by the encounter with the Thain's survey team and subsequent events.  
  
Quite a few skirmishes were fought in the wilds near the River Lune, and more in and around the Tower Hills, but soon the few remaining ruffians were on the run, pursued southwards by grim hunters.  
  
Ferdi continued to eat and drink, honouring the choice that Elladan had wrung from him in the burning infirmary, though he spoke very little, his countenance sober. It was a relief to him when the bandages were removed from his healing fingers, and if they were stiff and less sensitive than they ought to be, he worked them diligently at the tasks the healers set him, stringing beads at first, tying knots, and other inconsequentialities that were aimed to lead to greater dexterity.  
  
Despite being taken down, jostled about in the battle, and strung up again, Ferdi's leg was making satisfactory progress, at least in Elrohir's opinion, and one evening Elladan walked shakily into the room and sat down to offer his own opinion. 'Healing nicely,' he said, and Ferdi responded, 'Elladan?'  
  
'The same,' the son of Elrond answered.  
  
'Good to see you on your feet,' Ferdi said. 'Just a manner of speaking,' he added.  
  
'Of course,' Elladan said gravely. 'I hear you are eating.'  
  
'Yes, that's a common pastime amongst hobbits,' Ferdi said easily.  
  
'Good to hear, all the same,' Elladan said, and then the twain sat in silence for a time.  
  
As a matter of fact, Ferdi fell asleep, and the son of Elrond gently pulled up the coverlet under his chin, nodded to Merry, sitting on watch, and walked softly from the room.   
  
That night, Fastred dreamed of Elanor, walking on the moor above Greenholm, settling amongst the wildflowers at the cry of the merlin, her head drooping sleepily against his shoulder, the soft susurrus of her breathing like the steady waves that broke upon the sand not far from the Havens. Leotred, of a wonder, dreamed in the same span of time of the other sister, and he held her hand and sang to her of hope and peace.   
  
Frodo dreamed of nothing at all, for Samwise had noticed his son's reluctance to sleep, and the way Frodo stared at the ceiling through the long nights, and he had spoken to the healers. As a result, Frodo was required to drink a strong sleeping draught before retiring... but at least he was sleeping, and no ruffians stalked his night hours.  
  
Ferdibrand dreamed of his own lady, as they walked across the plain, hands entwined. He stopped to sweep up a handful of violets from the ground and tucked them tenderly in her hair, and they shared a kiss before walking on. For some reason, he could not feel her hand now, and as his fingers tightened, she pulled away from him, laughing. With a choked cry he reached for her, and it was a great relief to feel her fingers slip back into his hand and tighten, clinging to him. He heard her voice, soothing now, and, smelling violets, he eased again into sleep.


	39. In All that I Am Doing

Notes to Readers:   
  
Merlin is finished, all 46 chapters. I hope you will enjoy it as much as I did. Will keep posting every other day until finished, then start posting a new story. If'n it don't rain and the crick don't rise...  
  
Thanks for the reviews! Very helpful, quite motivating.  
  
Hai, glad to hear from you. You know, you're right, all the remaining members of the Fellowship were there, weren't they?  
  
Aemilia Rose, wouldn't want the suspense to kill you... I need all the review-writing readers I can get... especially when the Muse is in a snit (as today) and telling me she has no intention of writing anything, and she hates all the stories we've already done, as well as the ones in the works. *sigh* What do you do when pina coladas don't work? I think I'll send her off to Hawaii for a few days. Wish I could go too.  
  
FantasyFan, nice summary of the action thus far, and analysis of Pippin's gift/curse, whatever you want to call it. You have a nice way of summarizing and picking out the essence. Balance. I could use a bit of that, myself.  
  
eiluj, good to see you. I got your review from the other website. Shhh, don't tell anyone until a certain story is finished here... And actually, in the first draft, Ferdi... well, I don't have the heart to tell you.  
  
Xena, you're right, they were hard put to it. Guess the Havens have been left alone for awhile... after all, this is 30 years after the Quest! Probably not a lot of orcs and other riffraff running about these days. Those sneaky ruffians, banding together like that. Yes, Ferdi found Nell's hand again...  
  
Look for a new chapter to this story, if ff.net agrees, in two days. Angst forecast: Angst seems to be easing off just a bit.  
  
Look for the newest chapter to "Flames", in case you are following that story, on the morrow. (Flames is finished, by the way, and I find the ending very satisfying even though I hated to end it!) Thank you for your patience.  
  
***  
  
**39. In All that I Am Doing**  
  
Pippin awakened with a start, and seeing a smiling Southron sitting next to his bed, he froze.  
  
The Southron reached behind him for something... his weapon? ...and the hobbit closed his eyes again, waiting...  
  
The sound of water, trickling, came to his ears, and then a cool, damp cloth soothed his forehead.  
  
'How is he?' a familiar voice said, and Pippin strained to make sense of the words, to identify the speaker.  
  
'His fever is very high,' a strange voice, heavily accented, replied.  
  
Pippin remembered the owner of the first voice, and whispered, 'Strider...'  
  
Familiar fingers gently enveloped his hand; a well-known palm rested itself upon the cloth on his forehead, and a feeling of peace stole over the fevered hobbit. Still, he had to warn the Ranger. 'Southron,' he whispered.  
  
'It's all right, Pippin,' the Ranger answered. 'He's a friend.'  
  
_A friend...?_ Just a few days ago, the Southrons had attacked Minas Tirith, singing, swinging their curved blades, an unholy joy lighting their faces as they hacked at Faramir's retreating force. Pippin thought back through a blur of confused fever-dreams, but could not sort out the images. He sighed, and the Ranger spoke again.  
  
'It is all right, Pippin,' he said. 'The battle is over. The Havens are safe.'  
  
_Havens?_  
  
'Southron,' he whispered again.  
  
'I will sit with him, now, Ha'alas,' the Ranger said.  
  
'Very well, Ha'alassar,' the stranger replied. 'Perhaps you can reassure the Thain that I mean him no harm.'  
  
_Thain? Was Paladin here, then? How had he come to Minas Tirith, through the forces of the Dark Lord that besieged the White City? How had Strider come, for that matter?_  
  
'Is the siege broken?' he whispered, trying to open his eyes to look at Strider.  
  
'Yes, Pippin, the siege is broken. Rest now,' the Ranger answered. Pippin nodded, closed his eyes, and let sleep take him.  
  
***  
  
Ferdibrand wakened to a familiar feeling, a weight resting gently on his chest, and raising his hand he encountered silky curls. In a moment he would open his eyes and find himself in his bed at the Great Smials, snuggled together with his Nell, and over breakfast he would tell her of his strange dream, but for now, he was content to lie quietly, stroke her hair, count his blessings.  
  
He sighed, and the head stirred. 'O my love,' she whispered.  
  
'Nell, my own,' he answered, and opened his eyes to darkness. At his sudden intake of breath, the head was raised up, the weight gone, and he thought her only a dream, the darkness before his eyes and the pain in his leg bringing home the sharp reality.   
  
But no, familiar fingers twined themselves in his, and his own Nell's voice said his name softly. 'I am here, now, Ferdi.'  
  
'How?' he asked, wonder in his tone, still thinking himself wrapped in a dream.  
  
She laughed low in her throat. 'On the wings of the night,' she said. 'On an elven horse, perched before an elf lord who came to the Smials in the twilight, showed the seal of the Thain, and brought me to this place... to you.'  
  
'A horse could not come here from the Smials in one night,' he protested, but she put a hand to his lips.  
  
'I do not know quite how,' she said. 'I know that I saw the stars wheeling overhead while he sang to me in a strange tongue. We travelled by secret paths, for I saw no other hobbits, and some of the time I was sleeping... but we rode through the gates here with the rising of the Sun. He carried me to your bedside and laid me down beside you, and so... here I am.'  
  
His arms tightened about her. 'It doesn't matter,' he said. 'You are here now...'   
  
She lay long in his embrace, her arms circling him, both breathing together.  
  
'They said you nearly left me,' she whispered at last. 'How could you make such a choice?' There were tears in her voice.  
  
'I wished you to remember me as I was,' Ferdi said simply. She sat up, pulling away from him.  
  
'You think I would be more comforted by a memory, than by a living, breathing husband?' she said, shock in her tone.  
  
'I'm sorry,' he said humbly, blinking away traitorous tears that surprised him by their sudden appearance. He had thought to spare her pain, and now it seemed that no matter what his choice might be, he would cause pain to her whom he loved more than his own life, whether by his contemplated death, or by the burden of his continued life. He turned his face away.  
  
'O Ferdi,' she whispered, and her arms were around him once more.  
  
'My Nell,' he said, his own arms reaching up to circle her again. 'Can you ever forgive me?' Forgive him... for nearly dying? ...or for continuing to live, no longer the hobbit she had married.  
  
'I love you,' she murmured against his chest, and for a long time they lay together in silence.  
  
***  
  
Frodo wakened slowly, not knowing where he was, but aware of his father's hand holding his. Had he been ill, then? He yawned, pulling his hand free to stretch, and opened his eyes to see Samwise smiling at him.  
  
'Welcome back to the world,' Sam said. 'Did you sleep well?'  
  
'As well as a rock before it's dug out of the garden bed,' Frodo answered. 'I'm hungry!'  
  
'Good,' Sam smiled. 'That's the best thing I've heard all day.'  
  
'Can't have heard much,' Frodo said. 'It's barely dawn.'  
  
'It is nearly time for tea,' his father corrected him.  
  
'But,' Frodo said, starting up in alarm, 'who started the fire for Mum, then, to cook the breakfast? And all my other chores have gone wanting...'  
  
'Steady, Son,' Sam said, and Frodo looked about him for the first time, to see an oddly flat ceiling with richly carven beams, windows with square corners, larger than hobbit _doors_, open to welcome the fresh air. The smell of salt was in the air, and he heard the distant sound of waves. Full memory came flooding back, and he drew a shaky breath as Samwise watched him with concern.  
  
'All right?' Sam said, and Frodo nodded.  
  
'I was just thinking of what Leot said, sifting through what was real and what was not, what cannot be changed, and what I can do, yet, if I put my mind to it.'  
  
'What is real?' the Mayor asked.  
  
'The ruffians, they were, and they did awful things, but they are not here now, nor likely to be,' Frodo answered.  
  
'Yes,' Sam nodded. 'And what can you do, yet?' he went on, curious.  
  
Frodo took a deep breath. 'I can refuse to let them haunt me,' he said. 'I can go on with my life. I can seek joy and not walk in shadows because of past events that I cannot change.'  
  
Samwise, as one who had made a similar choice every day for half his lifetime, nodded again. 'Leot has the right of it,' he said.  
  
Frodo looked at his father. 'Rose needs him,' he said.  
  
'So, you think they ought to marry?' Sam said soberly.  
  
Frodo nodded suddenly. 'I do,' he said. 'And I think Ellie loves Fas; I know how he feels about her, he told me in the cave.'  
  
Samwise broke into a broad grin. 'Good thing I gave my consent, then,' he answered. At Frodo's incredulous look, he added, 'Fastred came to me last night, after your sleeping draught took effect, and we had a long talk. Leotred came this morning, to check on you, and that's when he asked for Rose's hand.'  
  
Frodo laughed, and his father rejoiced at the sound. King Elessar stuck his head in at the doorway. 'Now there's a fine sound,' he said. 'Music to the ears.'  
  
'It seems a wedding is in the offing,' Samwise said. 'Do you think the King might be able to attend?'  
  
'I shall check with his chancellor,' Elessar said gravely.  
  
'Better to check with his wife,' Sam said dryly.  
  
'I think you have the right of it,' Elessar nodded, and the three laughed together. Elves working outside at clearing away and rebuilding paused in their work to smile at the joyful sound.  
  



	40. Flee Now, Vanish, Yield Now, You Sorrows

Notes to Readers:   
  
Thanks for the reviews! Very helpful, quite motivating.  
  
Am posting today's chapter a few hours early; hope nobody minds. :)  
  
Hai, it certainly is a good thing that Frodo approves! Hostile in-laws can be quite a challenge to overcome.  
  
Aemilia Rose, wouldn't want the suspense to kill you... I need all the review-writing readers I can get... especially when the Muse is in a snit (as today) and telling me she has no intention of writing anything, and she hates all the stories we've already done, as well as the ones in the works. *sigh* What do you do when pina coladas don't work? I think I'll send her off to Hawaii for a few days. Wish I could go too.  
  
Xena, Ha'alas is a scary guy, coming from the background he comes from. Still, they might have got him away from his father's influence in time. And hobbits have to be a good influence, too. Yum, I think I'll have a pina colada as well, just leave the rum out of mine (am a wine drinker, but stronger spirits give me headaches).  
  
Look for a new chapter to this story, if ff.net agrees, in two days. Angst forecast: Angst seems to be easing off just a bit.  
  
Look for the newest chapter to "Flames", in case you are following that story, on the morrow. (Flames is finished, by the way, and I find the ending very satisfying even though I hated to end it!) Thank you for your patience.  
  
***  
  
40. Flee Now, Vanish, Yield Now, You Sorrows  
  
Pippin awakened to hear Merry crooning an old tune, one he'd often sung to soothe his young cousin to sleep on the long, wearisome journey from Rivendell southwards, before the Fellowship was broken on the rocks of Parth Galen.  
  
'Merry?' he whispered. The song broke off.  
  
'Hullo, Pip,' his cousin said cheerfully. 'Feeling better?' The warm, dry cloth was removed from his forehead and replaced with a cool, wet one.  
  
'No,' Pippin said honestly. 'It hurts.'  
  
'What hurts?' Merry asked gently.  
  
'Everything,' Pippin groaned. Every bone and muscle in his body felt as if he'd been dipped into a river and then pounded flat, much like a piece of clothing washed in one of the places where they camped along the Anduin.  
  
'A little athelas is in order, I think,' Strider's voice came. 'It is a stubborn fever, and we have let it run its course for long enough.'  
  
'What are you doing here, Strider?' Pippin asked, confused, but the light hurt his eyes and he closed them again.  
  
'We'll talk about that when you're feeling better,' the king answered. Pippin heard a teakettle begin to whistle, then the sound of water poured into a basin. He heard a rustling sound, as of dried leaves being crushed between the palms of someone's hands, and then a living scent reached his nostrils, bringing clarity to his thinking, even as the pounding in his head subsided, and the soreness in his muscles began to fade. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, to see Strider smiling at him, holding a basin before his face.  
  
'Breathe deeply, that's it, Pippin,' the Ranger said. But... he wasn't a Ranger, now, was he? As the fog began to clear, Pippin remembered. Strider was... Elessar... king of Gondor, and of the North-kingdom, of which the Shire was a part.  
  
'Elessar?' he said, to be rewarded by a smile from the king and a sigh of relief from Merry.  
  
'He's remembering,' a heavily-accented voice said, and Pippin blinked, trying to focus on the figure by the door. White teeth smiled from a dark face, and he remembered the king of Haragost.  
  
'Ha'alas,' he said. 'You're here, as well?'  
  
'Indeed, my friend,' the Southron said, advancing into the room.  
  
'We never finished our game of Kings last night,' Pippin said.  
  
'That is correct,' Ha'alas said, refraining from pointing out that the game in question had been suspended nearly a week earlier. 'We did not.' He sat down in one of the chairs by the bed. 'But I do not feel quite up to the challenge this day, if you will excuse me, Thain Peregrin.'  
  
'Pippin,' the hobbit corrected firmly, and the king of Haragost smiled.  
  
'Pippin, of course,' he said, taking the small hand in his own, cool now, no longer burning hot as it had been through the last few nights. He had learned much of this little one with the big deeds, listening to the fever dreams when he took a turn at watching. It was no fluke that one of his race had vanquished the Dark Lord.  
  
'I have some broth here,' Elrohir said, entering with a tray.  
  
'Broth?' Pippin said in surprise. 'That's for sick folk!' He started to sit up, only to have Elessar and Ha'alas hasten to support him and prop pillows behind him.  
  
'I know,' Elrohir said, 'but the cook made it especially for you, and will be broken-hearted if you do not at least try a taste.'  
  
Pippin shot him a shrewd glance. 'I thought elves were supposed to be truthful.'  
  
'Of course,' Elrohir said gravely, but he was betrayed by the twinkle in his eye. 'However, Mayor Samwise did tell me he would be sorely grieved if you did not honour his efforts.'  
  
'Samwise!' Pippin said, surprised. 'Samwise, cooking in your kitchens?'  
  
'Yes, I do believe he is trading recipes with our cooks. We have become quite enamoured of Mayor Samwise's famous mushroom soup, to be completely honest, and he is learning to make lembas, though why he should desire that recipe is a puzzle.' While talking, the son of Elrond settled the tray on Pippin's lap, skillfully tucked a serviette under the hobbit's chin, and proffered a spoon with a flourish.  
  
'My thanks,' Pippin said, receiving the spoon with dignity. He dipped it into the broth, raised it to his mouth, and closed his eyes. 'Yes,' he said, 'that is Sam's cookery.'  
  
Samwise himself came in a bit later, beaming to see the bowl empty.  
  
'Good broth, Sam, you haven't lost your touch.'  
  
'Good to know,' Sam answered. 'I can always take up cooking if I grow weary of being Mayor.' He dug in his pocket. 'O by the way, I have something of yours.'  
  
'What's that?' Pippin said, then his eyes widened as the Mayor produced the seal of the Thain. 'Where did this come from?' he asked.  
  
'You gave it to an elf lord, who rode to the Great Smials and showed it to Reginard to persuade him to send your sister here, for Ferdibrand's sake.'  
  
'I did, did I? Very thoughtful of me.' Pippin said, eyes narrowing.  
  
'Ferdi thought so,' Sam said with a smile.  
  
'Funny that I don't remember doing that,' Pippin said.  
  
'Well, I did ask if you had any objections when I drew it off your hand, and you said nothing...' Sam said.  
  
Ha'alas laughed. 'Is this how Halflings conduct business?' he asked.  
  
Pippin twinkled at him. 'Off with his head, eh, Ha'alas?'  
  
'No, no, we would simply... throw him to the dogs,' the king of Haragost said. 'Except that there will be no more of that when I return. Elessar and I have been talking about... more civilised methods than those employed by my father.'  
  
'I've been meaning to ask you,' Merry began, and stopped.  
  
'What is it, my friend? Do not fear insulting me, I am learning to make allowances.'  
  
'Very kind of you,' Merry said dryly. 'I was wondering, why you paid reparations for Celandine and her family, when slavery was a common practice amongst the Haradrim.'  
  
'Ah,' Ha'alas nodded wisely. 'It is the Law, you see,' he said, then remembering that these unenlightened ones were not familiar with the Law by which his people lived, he added, 'Slaves are taken in battle, when a stronger people conquer a weaker one. Celandine and her family were taken by stealth and treachery, very dishonourable.'  
  
'Honour is all,' murmured Pippin, and the young king turned to him with a smile.  
  
'Yes,' he said, 'exactly.' He looked at Elessar. 'But we are learning new ways,' he said. 'Ha'alassar came against us with an overwhelming force, and yet he did not make slaves of us, rather, he offered us friendship.' Elessar nodded and smiled as the young king continued, 'I think that the two kingdoms, together, as friends, will be stronger than master and slave would be.'  
  
'You have the right of it, my friend,' Elessar said, and the king of Haragost bowed slightly.  
  
'Honour is all,' Ha'alas repeated, 'and you allowed us to keep ours. I have indeed learned much, and I intend to share this new learning with my people, and may a long friendship grow between our kingdoms.'  
  
'Hear, hear,' Pippin said, raising his mug of water in a toast. 'To friendship.'  
  
***  
  
The Thain fell asleep soon afterwards, and Merry stretched. 'Why don't you have a bit of a nap yourself?' Elessar asked him.  
  
'I'm fine,' Merry said.  
  
'Seems as if I've heard that before,' the King said dryly.  
  
'No, really, I am,' Merry insisted, extending his right hand. Elessar took it, raising an eyebrow. 'Warm,' he commented.  
  
Answering the young king of Haragost's questioning look, Elessar explained, 'He helped to slay the Witch King, you know, and his sword arm tends to bother him when he is ill or worried.' The young king nodded, yet again impressed by the little folk his father had deceived him into thinking simple-minded animals.  
  
'As you see, I have not been worrying overmuch, though there seems to be much to worry over, at the moment,' Merry said. 'Somehow it is hard to worry, among elves.'  
  
'What is it that worries you, my friend?' Elessar asked quietly.  
  
Merry nodded towards the bed. 'Him, mostly,' he said. 'I had persuaded him to seek your counsel, before we were distracted by events...'  
  
'My counsel?' Elessar prompted, when Merry paused.  
  
'Strider...' Merry began, and the King nodded encouragingly. 'Your offer of the Westmarch is a great gift,' he said. 'But...'  
  
'We will scour the land of ruffians, set up outposts along the new Bounds, you need not worry about the safety of your people,' Elessar said.  
  
Merry sighed. 'That is a relief,' he said, 'but not the whole solution.'  
  
'Tell me,' Elessar said. 'If it is this difficult for you, think of what you are sparing Pippin.'  
  
'Strider, Pippin is trying to oversee the Shire in the same way my father watched over Buckland,' Merry said. 'He is doing more than any Thain has ever done, and the land and the people are prospering. His own father watched over Tookland only, ruled that land with an iron fist, which I suppose would be easier than what Pip's doing. He is letting the people govern themselves, as hobbits were meant to, and only steps in when there is a problem, and he ensures care for those who have none to care for them.'  
  
'An admirable endeavor,' Elessar said gravely.  
  
'Yes, but Tookland, or Buckland, are small fish compared to the entire Shire,' Merry said. 'And now...'  
  
'And now I am adding the Westmarch to his burden,' Elessar said in slow realisation.  
  
'A burden that he is already staggering beneath,' Merry said soberly. He raised a hand to forestall further comment from the King. 'And if you were to withdraw your offer... he already feels as if he is failing in his duty to the people. To lose the Westmarch, because of his own inadequacies, real, or fancied...' He shook his head. 'I think it would break him.'  
  
The King considered long in the silence that followed. Finally, he leaned forward and said, 'You asked for my counsel. This is what I advise...'


	41. I Have Enough

Notes to Readers:   
  
Thanks for the reviews! Very helpful, quite motivating. Tried to post this chapter hours ago but could not access ffnet for some reason.  
  
Am feeling better, thank you for the good wishes. Got a postcard from the Muse, enjoying Hawaii. At least she's talking to me again, even if at a distance, in postcard-sized snippets.  
  
Welcome back, Bookworm! You are no longer submitting anonymous reviews, congratulations! Just think, five chapters... good thing I've started updating every other day or it might have been more. Yes, Ferdi's eyes... but at least he's alive.  
  
Hai, you get to hear the results of Elessar's advice in this chapter, I think.  
  
FantasyFan, ffnet ate one of your reviews? I grieve. I might have gotten it in my mailbox, will have to check. (I do read my reviews first thing every morning, just before writing time starts. Or, for the last few days, revising time... but I did manage to write a chapter of a new story this morning, so perhaps the Muse is ready to return.) Thanks for the kind words, appreciate the thoughtful review.  
  
runaround, no, I'm happy to say you're wrong about the Southron. He's spent a lot of time in Elessar's company, and quite a bit of time with hobbits (the whole journey upriver with Celandine, after she got over her seasickness, as well as several days in Buckland, in addition to the weeks he's been at the Havens since the battle).  
  
Xena, I wondered if anyone would question Elessar not using athelas earlier. In olden times, and even now some doctors recommend letting a fever run its course, not trying to reduce temperature unless the patient is in great discomfort (i.e. headache) or goes into seizures. The fever is the body's way of fighting... Glad you liked the chapter.  
  
Aemilia Rose, I see you back there, raising your hand. Hold your peace, we haven't got to the questions at the end of the chapter yet.  
  
Dana, thanks for the raft of reviews! It is always nice to find them waiting for me.  
  
Look for a new chapter to this story, if ff.net agrees, in two days. Angst forecast: Angst seems to be easing off just a bit.  
  
Look for the newest chapter to "Flames", in case you are following that story, on the morrow. Thank you for your patience.  
  
***  
  
**41. I Have Enough**  
  
'Ferdi, my love, it is time to awaken.'  
  
Ferdibrand stretched as best he could, considering one leg was attached to the ceiling, encountering a familiar warm softness snuggled close against his side.  
  
'Nell?' he whispered.  
  
'I'm here,' she said, and he felt a kiss dropped upon his cheek as the warm softness moved and stretched beside him. 'There's an elf standing here, looking at us with the sweetest smile on his face, and a tray of delicious food in his hands.'  
  
'No one has ever called me "sweet" before,' Elrohir said.  
  
'Ah, but you are,' Pimpernel said, and the smile on the face of the son of Elrond grew brighter. There was something about these halflings...  
  
'I can smell the "delicious" part,' Ferdi said. 'I'll have to take your word about the sweetness of the smile.'  
  
'It is very sweet,' Elrohir said. 'I have it on good authority.'  
  
Of a wonder, Ferdi laughed.  
  
***  
  
When Pippin awakened, he was alone with Merry and Sam. No elves and no kings were dancing attendance upon him, a refreshing feeling.  
  
'Welcome back to the world,' Samwise said when he saw Pippin's eyes open. Merry turned to the bed to add his greeting.  
  
'What time is it?' Pippin yawned.  
  
'Nearly breakfast,' Merry said. 'You've shown your usual cunning, in getting up just in time for a meal.'  
  
'It seems I've heard that one before,' Pippin said.  
  
'No doubt,' Merry answered.  
  
'How's Ferdi?' Pippin asked next.  
  
Merry smiled. 'He's better,' he said.  
  
Pippin heaved a sigh of relief. 'Somehow, I never thought I'd hear those words, spoken about Ferdibrand, ever again.'  
  
Merry patted his arm, for the same thoughts had gone through his mind. 'Thank you for thinking to fetch Pimpernel here to the Havens,' he said.  
  
'You're welcome,' Samwise answered, then added, 'I mean, you ought to remember your manners, Pippin, and say "You're welcome" to your cousin.'  
  
'You're welcome,' Pippin said obediently, and Sam grinned.  
  
'As long as we are here alone,' Merry said, abruptly changing the subject, 'there's a matter of business we need to discuss...'  
  
Pippin immediately sobered, warily regarding his cousin. 'Business?' he said. 'You mean, the Westmarch?'  
  
'Among other things,' Merry said. 'I talked to Elessar yesterday...'  
  
'And he is withdrawing his offer of the Westmarch?' Pippin asked bleakly. His thoughts were all too plain to the other two.  
  
'Not at all,' Merry hastened to reassure him, but he didn't look reassured. 'Pip, there's got to be a way to do this,' he added.  
  
Pippin sighed, and Sam put a hand on his other arm. 'Why do you think the King appointed three of us as Counsellors to the North-Kingdom?' he asked reasonably. 'The load would be too heavy for one hobbit to bear, and he knows it.'  
  
'What am I to do?' Pippin asked. 'Confine myself to Tookland, give up the rest of the Shire, hope some other misbegotten hobbits will stand forth to administrate the areas outside of Tookland?'  
  
'Nothing so drastic,' Merry said practically. 'Although I already administrate Buckland, so that's one less thing for you to worry about.'  
  
'And I watch over the area between Bywater and Michel Delving, you know,' Samwise contributed.   
  
'When you're not off gallivanting all over the Shire, opening festivals,' Pippin said dryly.  
  
'There is that,' the Mayor admitted.  
  
'In any event, Pip, you don't have to carry the weight of the Shire upon your shoulders alone,' Merry said.  
  
'No,' Pippin said. 'It's just that I've become too dependent on Ferdibrand over the years, his memory and his good sense.'  
  
'Yes, he really ought to have been Thain instead,' Merry said practically, then grinned at Pippin's look of surprise.  
  
'The thought had crossed my mind,' Pippin confessed.  
  
'Well, it's all moot, for _you're_ Thain,' Sam said practically.  
  
'Yes, your father passed it down to you, a lovely inheritance,' Merry said lightly. 'A bit of furniture might have been nicer, an antique table, perhaps, though it would require regular dusting and waxing.'  
  
Pippin did not smile at this scrap of nonsense; rather, he sighed. 'I just don't know how I'm going to cope without Ferdi,' he said.  
  
'What do you mean?' Merry asked in surprise. 'He's getting better, I tell you.'  
  
'I've still lost him,' Pippin said. 'He's still the best choice to administrate the Westmarch, and I could hardly take the post away from him after all he's gone through.'  
  
'O Pip,' Merry breathed, and couldn't speak for a moment.  
  
'What?' Pippin asked curiously, then began to feel stirrings of alarm, looking at his cousin's face. 'What is it, Merry?'  
  
'Pippin...' Merry began slowly, 'the reason Ferdi turned his face to the wall in the first place was not because he'd been so badly hurt that he wished to die...'  
  
He was silent for the space of a few breaths, while Pippin waited and Sam nodded encouragingly.  
  
Finally, he went on. 'It was because he felt that he was no longer of use to anyone... You are still planning for him to be Warden of Westmarch?'  
  
Pippin was surprised. 'Of course! He doesn't need eyes to listen to hobbits and make decisions! His ability to listen and sift truth from error has always been his greatest strength, in any event.'  
  
'You ought to tell _him_ that,' Merry said seriously. 'I think it would mean a great deal to him.'  
  
'I will!' Pippin said, throwing back the bedcovers, only to be forestalled by the other two.  
  
'Not so fast,' Sam said, and Merry added, 'I meant that you should tell him as soon as you're allowed to get up.'  
  
Pippin rolled his eyes. 'You're not going to sing that song again, are you?' he said in exasperation. 'The fever's gone, I'm fine, really I am.'  
  
'Strider said he wanted to check on you,' Merry said, and Pippin snorted.  
  
'Honestly, you'd think he'd leave off that healer foolishness once he became King,' Pippin grumbled.  
  
'We're not finished with our business yet,' Samwise reminded Merry, recalling him to the topic at hand.  
  
'O yes, that's right,' Merry said. 'Now, Pippin, let us suppose Ferdi had died...'  
  
'Let us _not_,' Pippin said fervently.  
  
'We are only _supposing_,' Merry said firmly, to reassure him. 'Whom would you have chosen to watch over Westmarch in his dearth?'  
  
'You _did_ say "dearth" and not "death", I hope,' Pippin said irrelevantly.  
  
'I did,' Merry answered. 'Who would it be?'  
  
Pippin thought hard. 'Reginard is not well enough,' he mused, 'and I cannot strip myself of all my own counsellors, not if I expect to do right by the people...'  
  
Sam and Merry waited. Elessar had advised them to let Pippin talk his way through the problem, in order that he might be able to own the solution. The King had expressed his confidence in the Thain's ability to do so, if the others just kept him on the path and didn't allow him to wander too far down any side trails...  
  
'Everard,' he said finally.  
  
'Everard?' Merry asked. Everard was chief engineer at the Smials, knowledgeable in all aspects of digging and delving. Hobbits came from all over the Shire to submit their plans to him, for advice, for he had a knack for knowing how to make a project go as quickly and safely as possible to its completion.  
  
'Everard,' Pippin said, his tone growing more confident. 'He's actually run things a few times, when neither Reginard nor myself was available for one reason or other, and done a fine job. He has a good head on his shoulders, not just when it comes to digging in the dirt.'  
  
'Everard,' Samwise said thoughtfully.  
  
'I think it could work,' Merry nodded.  
  
'What do you mean?' Pippin asked.  
  
'If Ferdi weren't available to be Warden of the Westmarch, overseeing the final, comprehensive survey, administrating the new territory and its settlement, Everard would be a competent substitute,' Merry said. 'He could even delve a new smials in the Tower Hills in his spare time, that would give him a welcome diversion from the burden of administrating.'  
  
'But...' Pippin said.  
  
'And of course, Ferdi would not be available to administrate the Westmarch, were he to stay in the Smials as your assistant,' Samwise put in smoothly.  
  
Pippin stared at them open-mouthed, then remembered to close his mouth again. 'How long have you two been thinking on this?' he demanded.  
  
'Not at all,' Merry said quietly. 'You did all the thinking yourself. We're just following along.'  
  
'But...' Pippin said again, and this time they let him continue. 'But would Ferdi stand for it? Would he be content to give up the Westmarch, stay in the Great Smials, go from being master back to assistant again?'  
  
'Why not ask him?' Samwise said softly.  
  
Pippin nodded. 'I shall,' he said. He took a deep breath. 'You know, I think I begin to see a light at the end of the darkened tunnel.'


	42. Be Mindful of Our Condition

Notes to Readers:   
  
Thanks for the reviews! Very helpful, quite motivating.   
  
Am feeling better, thank you for the good wishes. The Muse is back from vacation but feeling a bit rusty; the writing goes, but does not flow as usual. At least the clouds have lifted. I go through this on a regular basis, so thanks for bearing with me.  
  
FantasyFan, yes, Ferdi might suspect that it is a sop to a blind, pathetic hobbit, except for the fact that Pippin really _does _need him, and shows it as they continue to work together. And Everard, sadly, is in the background in this story, and will continue as a matter of mention by other characters, kind of like an actor in a continuing television series who goes missing from a few episodes for personal reasons. But do not worry, Ev'ard's fine and will appear in upcoming stories, I'm sure.  
  
Bookworm, yes, but Ferdi's only lost the use of his eyes. He still has his ears, his brain, his wit... I could go on and on but won't.  
  
Xena, I am touched by your confidence. I hope I usually know what I'm doing. Sometimes I have to just trust the Muse and keep writing until we get through a situation, and then it turns out that we did know what we were doing after all... I am not sure how hobbits capture folk's hearts, but I do know they've a firm grip on mine.  
  
Poiniard, welcome to the parlour. Just take the books off that chair over there, put them on the floor, someone will sort them out later. How do you like your tea? You cannot believe a hobbit would resent other hobbits? I dunno. I look at Lobelia, and the miller Sandyman, and the hobbits who reputedly were in league with the ruffians, and I come to the conclusion that they were capable of resentment and envy.  
  
Aemilia Rose, do not give it away, now! *smile*. O, and Ferdi told me to tell you he appreciates your support.  
  
Look for a new chapter to this story, if ff.net agrees, in two days. Angst forecast: we are in happier times in both stories (this one and "Flames"), fairly clear sailing from here on out, as I recall.  
   
Look for the newest chapter to "Flames", in case you are following that story, on the morrow. Thank you for your patience.  
  
***  
  
**42. Be Mindful of our Condition**  
  
'The leg looks good,' Elladan said in satisfaction.  
  
'I agree,' Elrohir said, then gave his brother a look. 'Now go sit down before you fall down.' Ferdi heard the injured son of Elrond settle into the chair beside the bed.  
  
'What does "looks good" mean?' Ferdi asked.  
  
'I cannot tell you, I am averting my eyes,' Pimpernel answered him with a squeeze of his hand. 'I would never have made a good healer, such things make me feel all queer.'  
  
'We cannot have that,' Ferdi said firmly. 'Avert your eyes, Nell, my love.'  
  
'I am nothing if not obedient,' Pimpernel said.  
  
'It means that there is no sign of infection, that all the flesh I can see is healthy, pink, and healing, that the bones are knitting well and have a good blood supply; in other words, master chancellor, I think we can safely say that you will keep your leg,' Elladan said from his place beside the bed.  
  
Ferdi took a deep breath and let it out again. Only the pressure of his hand on Pimpernel's told of the enormity of his relief.  
  
'It also means that we may stitch up the open wound,' Elrohir said. 'But I insist on a sleeping draught before we begin.'  
  
'Have at it,' Ferdi said. 'But how do you expect to stitch if you are asleep?'  
  
'A sleeping draught for _you_,' Elrohir emphasized, and Ferdi grinned at having been able to tease the son of Elrond. 'The best time would be this evening, I think; then you will simply sleep through until morning, waking up refreshed and no worse for the experience.'  
  
'How nice,' Ferdi murmured politely, and Pimpernel gave him a push.  
  
'Knock, knock,' Pippin's voice came from the doorway.  
  
'Enter at your own risk,' Ferdi answered. 'They're talking about needles and sleeping draughts at the moment.'  
  
'You distract them if they go for me, Ferdi, and I will run for help,' Pippin said, advancing into the room. 'I do believe there is a Southron nearby, who enjoys a bit of exercise with his weapon, and failing that, there's always Gimli and his axe.'  
  
'We will leave you for the nonce,' Elrohir said.  
  
'Mentioning Gimli's axe does it every time,' Pippin said in satisfaction.  
  
'Until this evening, then,' Ferdi replied with a casual wave.  
  
'This evening,' Elladan repeated, getting up from his chair.  
  
'Come, have a seat, Pippin,' Ferdi invited.  
  
Pimpernel started to get up from the bed, saying, 'Do you want me to leave?'  
  
'No,' her brother said. 'This concerns you as well, Nelly-lass.'  
  
'What is it?' Ferdi said.  
  
Pippin cleared his throat, but did not speak.  
  
'I am all ears,' Ferdi encouraged.  
  
'This is a bit difficult, Ferdi,' Pippin said. 'I find myself in the invidious position of having to beg.'  
  
'Beg away,' Ferdi answered airily. 'The worst I can say is "No".'  
  
'I am asking...' Pippin said slowly, 'ah, but it is difficult, Ferdi, I do not know what you will think of me when I am finished. I am asking you to give up the Westmarch, consider staying on at the Smials, for I do not know how I can manage without you.'  
  
'You want me to...' Ferdi said, stunned. Pimpernel squeezed his hand.  
  
There was a long silence while Pimpernel and her brother watched Ferdi's face... confusion, dawning understanding, unlooked-for hope...  
  
'You want me to stay on at the Smials?' Ferdi said at last.  
  
'Yes,' Pippin answered, shame-facedly. It was clear from his tone how reluctantly he asked, how strongly he felt he was doing Ferdibrand a disservice.  
  
Ferdi shook his head in wonder. 'You expected me to continue as Warden of Westmarch?' he said incredulously.  
  
'Why, of course,' Pippin said. 'You're the best hobbit for the job.' He sighed. 'There is still much work to be done, more surveys, plans for accepting applications for settlement, deciding how to parcel out the land. The King won't make the gift official, of course, until we have finished all the preliminary work. How long do you think it would take?'  
  
'We'd probably be finished and ready to accept the land from the King sometime next year,' Ferdi said, distracted, but then he was struck anew with amazement. 'You expected me to continue as Warden of Westmarch?' he repeated.  
  
'Of course!' Pippin repeated, sounding annoyed. He hated to repeat himself.  
  
'But I can't see!' Ferdi said.  
  
'What does that have to do with it?' Pippin asked in surprise.  
  
'I... ' Ferdi was at a loss for words. 'You need me?'  
  
'Ferdi,' Pippin said in exasperation. 'I do not know where you got the idea that you can just waltz off without a word to anyone and not be sorely missed.'  
  
'I... ' Ferdi said again.  
  
'As a matter of fact, I have been at my wit's end,' Pippin said. 'Do you know how difficult it has been, to continue as Thain with only half a steward and no chancellor?'  
  
'I... Ferdi said.  
  
'I've been sorely tempted to chuck everything and run off to Gondor, I'll have you know,' Pippin said severely. 'Now, if you please, put me out of my misery. Can I rely on you? Or are you going to insist upon staying in the Westmarch and leave me in the lurch?'  
  
'If you truly need me...' Ferdi began.  
  
'Ferdibrand Took!' Pippin said, as close to shouting as Ferdi had ever heard him. 'What have I been telling you this whole time?'  
  
'Of course I'll give up the Westmarch,' Ferdi said. 'I will stay at the Smials.'  
  
Pippin heaved a great sigh. 'You do not know what a burden you have lifted from my shoulders, cousin,' he said.  
  
'I don't know what to say,' Ferdi answered.  
  
'You might start with "You're welcome",' Pimpernel said. 'I do believe my brother just thanked you.'  
  
'You're welcome,' Ferdi said obediently.  
  
'Not at all,' Pippin said, and rose from his chair. 'I'm glad we had this little talk.' He took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead. 'I'm famished,' he said. 'I'm going in search of sustenance. Would you like me to bring you anything?'  
  
'Certainly,' Ferdi answered. 'I'll take whatever they have going.'  
  
'Very well,' Pippin said, and left the room.  
  
***  
  
That evening, Ferdi obediently drank the sleeping draught, while Pimpernel sat beside him, arm about his shoulders. As Elrohir and Elessar pulled away the supporting pillows and eased him back on the bed, his wife lay down beside him and wrapped her arms about him.  
  
'Nell, my own?' he murmured sleepily as the draught took effect.  
  
'I am here, Ferdi, my love,' Pimpernel whispered in his ear. He took a deep breath, and she felt him relax. 'I think we are ready,' she said softly.  
  
Elrohir washed the leg with something, and then probed with an experimental needle, but Ferdi made no sign of feeling, she saw before closing her eyes and snuggling closer. She listened for a while to the quiet conversation, Elladan occasionally contributing a comment from his chair, but the warm security of her husband nestled in her arms combined with the soft voices speaking in a lilting tongue to beguile her into sleep.  
  
At length the stitchery was finished. Elessar stepped back to survey the leg, then nodded. 'We will leave it suspended for the rest of the night,' he said, 'and watch for signs of infection, though I doubt we will see any.'  
  
'It appears to be healing rapidly,' Elrohir said. 'These halflings are amazing creatures; they mend so much more quickly than Man or Elf.'  
  
'I would have said that the leg could not be saved at all,' Elladan added. 'I am very glad I listened to your counsel, Elfstone, and made the attempt.'   
  
The King inclined his head. 'I had seen such healing in hopeless cause before,' he said. 'As you have. Remember the Ring-bearer and his companion after Mount Doom, as well as the Thain after they pulled him from under the troll...'  
  
'Indeed,' Elladan said. 'I thought it a fluke, that perhaps Mithrandir had lent you some of his powers to save the little ones. But now...' he looked to the tiny figures in the bed and shook his head in wonder.  
  
There was a rustle at the door and a messenger said, 'King Elessar, Cirdan wishes to see you, if you are finished here.'  
  
'We will watch with him, Elfstone,' Elrohir said. 'You go ahead.' The King nodded and took his leave.  
  
Elrohir sat down in one of the other chairs, and the brothers watched for a long time without speaking. At one point, Ferdi seemed to rouse slightly; one questing hand found his wife's hair and stroked it gently, then both his arms went around her and he sighed and slept again, while her grasp on him tightened.  
  
Elrohir looked to Elladan and surprised a curious look on his brother's face. 'What is it?' he asked.  
  
Elladan took a deep breath and did not answer for a span of time, but of course, Elves had time and to spare, so Elrohir was used to such silences. Finally Elladan spoke. 'I find myself... in envy of mortals,' he said at last.  
  
Elrohir allowed his surprise to show on his face.  
  
Elladan saw, and continued. 'Look at them, brother, the depth of love between them, all the sweeter because of their doom--the gift of Eru. They sustain one another; you can almost see the force of life flowing from one to the other.' He sighed. 'Had our mother been a halfling, she would never have left our father.'  
  
'A curious thought,' Elrohir said, his eyes on the entwined couple. Pimpernel had settled with her head against Ferdi's chest, his heartbeat in her ear, while Ferdi, in his sleep, nuzzled her curls. 'Had our mother been a halfling, they never would have married.'  
  
His brother looked at him with exasperation clear on his face. 'You know exactly what I mean,' he said. 'Do not put up a shield to evade the issue.'  
  
'As if it were a sword to strike me down,' Elrohir said practically.  
  
His brother looked at him thoughtfully. 'It is a sword, brother.' He took another deep breath, as if testing the air. 'I have made my choice.'  
  
'What have you chosen?' Elrohir said, curious.  
  
His twin regarded him solemnly. 'I think you already know,' he said softly. They spoke no more that night.


	43. Let Songs of Rejoicing be Raised

Notes to Readers:   
  
Thanks for the reviews! Very helpful, quite motivating.   
  
Am feeling better, thank you for the good wishes. The Muse is back from vacation but feeling a bit rusty; the writing goes, but does not flow as usual. At least the clouds have lifted. I go through this on a regular basis, so thanks for bearing with me.  
  
Bookworm, I know, that line about Elrond marrying a halfling (or not marrying one) cracks me up as well.  
  
Xena, I hate to repeat myself as well. How is it I manage to write three versions of the same story? I have no idea. I think Elladan's choice is "canon", at least, I've read elsewhere what the sons of Elrond chose, though I have not seen it in any original source of the Professor's as of yet.  
  
Hai, glad you like E. and E. You know, I didn't like them before I started writing them, either. Elves are difficult. But they grow on you. Perhaps it is exposure to hobbits that makes them more likeable.  
  
runaround, here's tissue for you. How about another cup of tea?  
  
Look for a new chapter to this story, if ff.net agrees, in two days. Angst forecast: we are in happier times in both stories (this one and "Flames"), fairly clear sailing from here on out, as I recall.  
   
Look for the last chapter to "Flames", in case you are following that story, and if ffnet agrees, on the morrow. Thank you for your patience.  
  
***  
  
**43. Let Songs of Rejoicing be Raised**  
  
'How clever! How very thoughtful!' Pimpernel exclaimed, wakening her husband.  
  
Ferdi wondered if he would ever become accustomed to opening his eyes to darkness. 'What's thoughtful, Nell, my own?' he asked, reaching for the sound of her voice, her hand instantly meeting his in quick reassurance.  
  
'A tray, with legs, so that you might sit up to eat, without any weight on your lap,' she said.  
  
'I wouldn't mind a weight on my lap, if it were the proper one,' Ferdi said, and his wife laughed.  
  
'I shall be sitting on your lap again before you know it, my love,' she said, laughter still rippling in her voice. 'And I do believe all of the children will pile on as well, and crush you completely flat.'  
  
'Won't that be convenient,' Ferdi murmured, pulling her close to nuzzle her hair. 'I won't need to open doors anymore, just slide underneath them.'  
  
'If you two turtledoves will stop billing and cooing, your breakfast is still hot, but I cannot guarantee it will remain so much longer,' Sam's voice said.  
  
'Good morning, Ferdibrand,' King Elessar's voice was heard. 'Let us sit you up, shall we?' He was carefully lifted, and settled back against pillows as Pimpernel pulled away again, retaining his hand.  
  
Something was different. 'My leg...' he said slowly. 'You've let it down again.'  
  
The King chuckled. 'Yes, but it is still splinted, so do not try to get up, or even bend it yet, if you please, master chancellor.'  
  
'Nell, my own,' Ferdi said as he felt the tray settled before him and smelled something promising, 'I do believe I will sit out the next dance.'  
  
'Very well, my love,' Pimpernel said. She tucked a serviette beneath his chin. 'I think we are ready.' However, nothing happened as Ferdi waited, sorting out the smells. Bacon... definitely. Eggs, he thought. Could that be fried tomatoes? And... his mouth watered. Baked beans.  
  
'We are ready?' he said encouragingly.  
  
Pimpernel chuckled. 'We are, indeed.' She guided his hand to the tray, touching first the fork, then the knife, then the plate, lifting his arm to move over the plate to where a mug of tea steamed. 'Think of the plate as a map,' she said, causing him to pick up the fork and touch each item as she named it. 'The eggs, fried to perfection, are to the south, the beans to the east, fried bread is west, with bacon just to the north and west, and tomatoes due north.' She released his hand, and Elessar watched in fascination as the fork moved unerringly to touch each food in turn, as Ferdi guided the fork without aid.  
  
'I think I can find my way around,' Ferdi said. 'But this fork feels surprisingly right.'  
  
'That was what I meant by "thoughtful",' Pimpernel said. 'Someone's gone to a great deal of trouble fashioning hobbit-sized cutlery and china, or else they've made a trip back to the Shire and rummaged through someone's cupboards.'  
  
'Don't tell me,' Ferdi said. 'An elf lord went a calling in the Shire again, with the seal of the Thain.'  
  
'Not quite,' Elessar said, settling next to the bed. He watched Ferdibrand lift the eggs onto the fried bread without mishap, cut off a bite-sized piece, lift it to his mouth, put down knife and fork for a sip of tea. 'It was Legolas and Gimli, with a note from Fastred, who fetched what was needed from Greenholm.'  
  
'Remind me to thank them,' Ferdi said, guiding a forkful of beans to his mouth.  
  
'You're welcome,' Gimli boomed from the doorway. 'Good to see you sitting up and eating, cousin!'  
  
'I am here, as well,' Legolas said. 'Good morning, cousin.'  
  
'Cousin?' Elessar said, puzzled amusement in his tone. 'You've been adopted by hobbits?' His face cleared as he remembered. 'O yes, there was something said to that effect...'  
  
'You ought to try it, you know,' Gimli said stoutly. 'Fine family. Wonderful board. Good ale, and the storytelling...'  
  
'But very selective,' Ferdi said, cocking an eye up at the King for all the world as if he could see him. 'I'm not sure you'd qualify to be a Took... we'd have to give it some thought.' He turned back to his plate for a bite of tomato, and sighed in satisfaction. 'Now that is what I call breakfast!'  
  
'While we were in Greenholm, we sent on a message to Hobbiton, to Mistress Rose,' Legolas said, leaning against the doorway. 'It seems there is a wedding in the offing.'  
  
Ferdi affected surprise. 'A wedding?' he said. Pimpernel laughed, and he turned to her. 'Well?' he demanded. 'Are you going to enlighten me?'  
  
'You've only been pushing them together for months,' his wife said, leaning to kiss him on the lips. 'Mmmm,' she added, 'you taste of bacon.'  
  
'Didn't they feed you, my love?' he asked in alarm.  
  
'Yes,' she said fondly. 'I've already eaten. But I could use another bite.' The fork moved to spear a bite of bacon and lifted it towards her mouth, and she steadied Ferdi's hand in hers to take the bite. 'Mmmm,' she said again. 'Lovely.'  
  
'Fastred...' Ferdi said, as if unsure.  
  
'...and Elanor, and Leotred and Rose,' Pimpernel said smugly, and Ferdi heard Samwise chuckling behind her.  
  
'Really? I am astonished,' Ferdi said. He kept on eating in the face of his wife's amusement. 'When is the wedding?'  
  
'As soon as you're on your feet,' Elessar said. 'I'm told you've threatened them with dancing at their wedding, and they're going to hold you to it.'  
  
***  
  
'Quick post, Mum!' Merry-lad sang out as Rose came from dusting the study in response to the pounding on the door.  
  
Rose tried to stop the trembling that shook her hands as she took the letter from the waiting hobbit. 'Thank you,' she managed to say.  
  
'What is it, Mum?' Elanor said, coming from the kitchen, wiping her hands.  
  
Rose steadied her voice. 'Ellie, take your brothers and sisters down to the stables and polish the harness until it gleams,' she said.  
  
'Yes'm,' Elanor said with a troubled glance. Her mother was expecting bad news, it seemed. She wondered, not for the first time, where her Dad and brother Frodo were, for no letters had come from the Great Smials in several weeks. She put on the kettle for tea, called the children from the various parts of the hobbit hole where each was busy at some task, sent them down to the stables ahead of her, warmed the teapot, put the tea on to steep and cosied the pot, set out mug, sugar and milk on the table, and called to her mother. 'Mum! We're off! Tea's on in the kitchen!'  
  
'Thank you, my dear!' her mother called back, and Elanor let herself out to follow the others to the stables.  
  
Rose put the letter down on the table and poured herself a cup of strong tea. She noted that the address was written in Sam's hand. Rosie-lass's nightmare had come back to haunt her mother over the past weeks, the fear increasing a hundred-fold when she'd heard the arrival of the quick post rider, and her hand trembled as she took up the letter again. Had something happened to her Frodo?  
  
Opening the letter, she scanned the contents and gave a cry, dropping into the rocking chair by the fire, clasping the letter to her bosom and bursting into tears.  
  
Elanor, who'd checked on her brothers and sisters and come back to hover just outside the kitchen door, crept in. 'Mum?' she said softly. 'Mum, what is it?'  
  
'O Ellie,' Rose sobbed. 'O...' She held out the letter.  
  
Elanor took it as if it might bite her. She, too, remembered her sister's dream, and now trembled for Frodo, irritating, beloved brother that he was.  
  
'Dearest Rose,' she read.  
  
'After serious consideration, taking your thoughts on the matter to heart, I have accepted the proposal of Fastred of Greenholm, in asking for Elanor's hand, and the proposal of Leotred, his brother, in asking for Rose's.  
  
'Should you find this acceptable, not having changed your opinion of these worthy hobbits, I ask you to consider setting a wedding date at the time of the harvest festival, on the Far Downs above Greenholm, at the request of the Thain, in order that the King might attend without having to travel deeply within the Bounds of the Shire.  
  
'Please see to the invitations, not neglecting Queen Arwen at the Lake.  
  
'I remain, ever faithfully yours, etc.'


	44. Glide, Playful Waves

Notes to Readers:   
  
Thanks for the reviews! Very helpful, quite motivating.   
  
Cannot believe there are only two more chapters to go. Thankfully there are several more stories in the works, that come after this one on the timeline. The next one is already in the works; chapter 7 was written today and the story is outlined to the end.  
  
Aemilia Rose, thanks for the kind words. The more Elessar hangs around hobbits, the more he develops his sense of humour, I find.  
  
FantasyFan, I certainly hope Elladan can find someone worthy of such a choice. I have not been tempted to write elf-romances, but I'm sure someone out there has already tackled the problem or is thinking about it. Men really do take things for granted, don't they?  
  
Xena, yes, I feel bad for Ferdi, too, but bad things do happen in life and we cannot just say "Stop the world, I want to get off." Attitude is all, or at the least it is very important. I have the feeling that Ferdi will manage to lead a rich, full life just as he did before he was inconvenienced. After our family raised a guide dog puppy and saw him graduate with his partner, we have had our eyes opened, in a manner of speaking. A handicap can ruin your life if you let it, or it can be overcome with enough determination. Oops, I think my computer slipped into preaching mode, had better toggle that off again.  
  
Bookworm, I had read about envisioning the plate as the face of a clock, you know, meat at 6 and peas at 3? But I think Ferdi, as a hunter-tracker-escort kind of guy, would be more comfortable with map coordinates. O, and the wedding chapter is coming up, very very soon.  
  
runaround, hobbits dancing on tables? Hmmmm, a novel concept. Wonder if I can work it in. Nope, just consulted with the wedding planner and she said it would be a nice touch, but that there will be no tables at this wedding. Wonder what she has up her sleeve?  
  
Look for a new chapter to this story, if ff.net agrees, in two days. Angst forecast: we are in happier times, fairly clear sailing from here on out, as I recall.  
   
Look for the first chapter to "FirstBorn" (sequel to "Flames"), in case you are following that story, and if ffnet agrees, on the morrow. Thank you for your patience.  
  
***  
  
**44. Glide, Playful Waves**  
  
'I'm sorry my dear,' Rose said, wiping her eyes with her apron. 'I was that worried about your brother, and then when the quick post came...'  
  
'I was worried as well,' Elanor said quietly, but her beaming face showed that all worry was well past. 'O Mama!' and she gave Rose a hug.  
  
'My love,' Rose answered, hugging her in return, then putting her back. 'But you must fetch your sisters and brothers. We have so much to do! Two weddings to plan! And only a span of weeks to get everything done...' As Elanor turned to go to the stables, she heard her mother ticking off her fingers. 'Invitations, and dresses... food, flowers, conveyances... clothing to pack, O and I will have to decline the harvest festival in Bywater on your father's behalf...'  
  
Rose could hear the uproar all the way from the stables, Rosie-lass giving a happy cry and the littler ones shouting in delight and breaking into song. She smiled and muttered again, 'So much to do...' and turned to the happy business of planning, the dusting of the study completely forgotten in the excitement of present events.  
  
***  
  
'What is it, old friend?'  
  
Gimli grunted, looking up in surprise as Legolas startled him out of a brown study. 'Eh? What? O nothing, nothing at all.'  
  
'You've been moping around here as if you'd lost your last friend,' Legolas pressed. 'I know you too well.'  
  
'Do you now?' Gimli grumbled. 'Do you indeed?' He huffed, and the elf laughed.  
  
'I do indeed,' Legolas said firmly. 'Tell me what is troubling you.' ...but the dwarf would not.   
  
Legolas had been helping in the shipyards, pulling the burnt wreckage out of the cradles, repairing the cradles themselves, climbing all over, asking questions of the shipwrights, putting his hand to building new ships along with the elves of Mithlond. Something in the dwarf's eyes as he gazed bleakly out over the water prompted the elf to say, 'Did you think I'm about to sail away?'  
  
Gimli was silent for such a long time that Legolas was about to ask the question a second time, when the gruff voice answered, 'The thought had crossed my mind.'  
  
'Old friend,' Legolas said, putting a hand on the sturdy shoulder. A rock, the dwarf might be, and the elf a slender tree growing up beside. 'I will not sail away and leave you grieving on the shore.' The cry of the gulls pulled at his heart, but he firmly put the desire away, not for the first time.  
  
'It is wrong for me to keep you,' Gimli said, keeping his eyes firmly on the waters. 'If it is right for you to go, then you must. On the next ship, if need be.'  
  
'I am not yet done with Middle-earth,' Legolas answered.   
  
The dwarf looked up at him. 'When will you be done?' he asked.  
  
A puzzled look crossed the face of the elf. 'I do not know,' he answered softly.  
  
'When will you know?' Gimli asked in irritation. He hated uncertainty. Solid, like the earth beneath his feet, he was. _Elves_, he grumbled to himself. _As likely to float away on the breeze as a bit of fluff._  
  
The hand of the elf squeezed his shoulder, surprisingly substantial, not at all like a bit of fluff. 'And how would I know that?' he laughed. 'I promise, I will let you know.' Sobering again, he repeated his promise. 'I will not sail away, Gimli, not unless you agree to come with me.'  
  
The dwarf snorted. 'And what would _They_ say about that?' he asked.  
  
'Should _They_ refuse you entry, then I would not enter either,' Legolas said firmly.  
  
The dwarf looked up at him. 'You mean that...' he said in grudging surprise.  
  
'Of course I do!' Legolas laughed.  
  
Gimli breathed a deep sigh. 'Why not wait until my passing,' he said. 'Then you're free to go.'  
  
'Ah, but I am hoping you will not be passing for a long time, yet,' Legolas said. The gulls tugged at his spirit again. Slowly, he said, 'If my heart should weary of Middle-earth... would you... would you come with me?'  
  
Gimli was silent for many breaths. Finally, he said, a smile quirking one corner of his mouth, 'I promise, I will let you know.'  
  
***  
  
'But if there is naught amiss with his eyes, why can he not see?' Pippin asked in frustration as he and Elessar walked slowly along the quay.  
  
'I do not know the answer to that question,' Elessar said slowly, 'though I have seen this before, in soldiers of Gondor whose eyes have seen such horrors that they cannot bear to see anything more.'  
  
'But if it is not a physical malady...' Pippin said. 'I was thinking of going to Treebeard, to beg of him another dose of ent draught.'  
  
'Ferdibrand would not take it,' the King said, 'even if there were a chance that it held his cure. He saw what you went through, and Reginard after you. He is no coward, but he would not take ent draught even to bring the light back to his eyes.'  
  
'If he were dying...' Pippin said.  
  
'He is not afraid to die,' Elessar said, 'he is only afraid of causing pain to others.' The Thain nodded, and sighed, then looked to the King again.  
  
'If it is not a physical malady...' he repeated, and stopped, thinking hard. 'Couldn't his eyes start to see again, just as suddenly as they stopped?'  
  
Elessar nodded. 'It has been known to happen. But, Pippin...' he put out a staying hand. 'Do not tell him, do not tell anyone what I have told you. Such a hope could break him, for there is no guarantee. I have known soldiers who regained their sight quickly, and others who remained blinded to the end of their days...'  
  
Pippin nodded, his face falling again into sorrowful lines.  
  
'There is another of your people that I brought you out here to discuss,' Elessar said after a time.  
  
'O yes?' Pippin asked absently.  
  
'Yes, someone who has worked himself hard, given himself little rest, burned nearly all of his fuel. I fear his fire has burned down to coals, and even the coals are nearly spent. His reserves are dangerously low. He's even gone off his feed, and you know what that means, in a hobbit.'  
  
'We cannot have that!' Pippin said firmly. 'Who is it? I will relieve him of his duties and send him on a long holiday.'  
  
'It is the Thain of the Shire,' Elessar said after a pause.  
  
'The...' Pippin echoed in amazement, then broke into a laugh. 'A fine jest, Strider! You had me, for a moment there!'  
  
'No jest,' Elessar said. 'You are like a pony, strained from overwork, and now you must keep pulling, a heavy load, up a long hill. You are close to breaking down. That fever was a warning.'  
  
'The load is not so heavy now,' Pippin said.  
  
'Meriadoc told me,' Elessar said, and Pippin looked astonished.  
  
'He's been talking to you... about me?'  
  
'I am concerned about all my Counsellors of the North-kingdom,' Elessar said. 'Theirs is a heavy load to bear, and if one falls, then the load of the others will only grow heavier.'  
  
'True,' Pippin said. He chuckled. 'I must admit, I have had dreams of running off to Gondor and leaving the whole mess behind. Not that I ever could do such a thing.' He sighed. 'Still, I would love to see the White City again. I haven't visited since I became Thain, though Merry and I made regular visits before that time. But now... I see no way of leaving open to me. The Tooks would never stand for it.'  
  
'O I don't know,' Elessar said thoughtfully. 'I understand Ferdibrand has relinquished the Westmarch to another, and that he and Reginard will be working together again, running the Shire as they have so well for the past few years.'  
  
'I did contribute, just a little,' Pippin said dryly.  
  
'A little,' the King conceded. 'You put the right people into place, and gave them guidance. They have learned much since you became Thain. I do think they could run the Shire quite well without you, for a year or two.'  
  
'What are you saying?' Pippin asked slowly.  
  
'I am issuing a royal command, summoning the Thain to attend me in Minas Tirith,' Elessar said.  
  
'A royal command?' Pippin echoed.  
  
Elessar smiled. 'Exactly,' he said, satisfaction in his tone. 'You cannot refuse a royal command, you know, and the Tooks cannot kick at your leaving, not if the King has ordered it.' He looked at the other's face and guffawed. 'Bring your family if you like,' he said generously. 'I'm sure they could use a holiday as well.'  
  
'When do we leave?' Pippin asked faintly.  
  
'After the wedding on the Downs,' Elessar answered. 'Does that give you enough time to prepare?'  
  
'Barely,' Pippin said. He stared at the elves, busy about their tasks, then up to the sky where the gulls swooped and glided. Slowly a smile spread across his face. 'I think we can manage, however.'  
  
'Good,' Elessar said firmly.  
  
'You know,' Pippin said suddenly, 'for some reason I am absolutely starving.'  
  
'Then let us seek out some refreshment. We can have a picnic by the shore.'  
  
'Sounds fine to me,' Pippin answered.  
  



	45. Ah! Now I See, as I Go to the Marriage

Notes to Readers:   
  
Thanks for the reviews! Very helpful, quite motivating.   
  
I cannot believe it, the wedding is here! Are we ready?  
  
Admin Notes: The next (and final) chapter in this story takes place four years after the wedding. It is an epilogue showing how the Warden of the Westmarch is finally established. Think of it as a glimpse into the future... the next story begins three years after the wedding, so if you decide to continue along this timeline with me, please don't be confused by the leap forward and then back... Speaking of the next story, it is called "Truth" and will be posted alternating with "FirstBorn", in the same way "Merlin" and "Flames" have been posted. Handy, for each of the stories to have a sequel...  
  
Those critical thinkers who have noticed but not yet pointed out that Rosie-lass is over-young to be marrying (if you do the calculations, she's not reached the age of thirty yet), well, her parents are in agreement that this is the best thing for her, considering that what she went through caused her to grow up quickly... and she and Leotred have become so attached. We grew up next to a farm where the couple had married in their teens and celebrated their 75th wedding anniversary. Imagine that. I do believe that Leot and Rose might have a similar story to tell... I have not figured out where in the story to shoehorn this information, so have left it out but thought I'd address it here in these notes, for those who look at timelines and think about these things. ("Hey, the youngest I've seen a hobbit-lass married is age 31 or 32. What gives with Rosie-lass?")  
  
O, and by the way, I am now posting new chapters simultaneously to ffnet and www.storiesofarda.com. So if ffnet has a bad day, hopefully you can still get your update of the continuing saga...  
  
Notes to reviewers:  
  
Bookworm, something like that might be planned for Ferdi in a future story. Who am I to give away plot points?  
  
Xena, thanks for the encouragement. The sequel to this story skips over Pippin's time in Gondor, though it remains possible that a story might yet come of that. The Muse won't say, she merely sips her pina colada and firmly directs me back to "Truth" and "Shire", the two stories currently under construction.  
  
FantasyFan, you *did* review chapter 44! I just now saw it in the ffnet list. For some reason it never made it to my mailbox and I wondered if you were again beset by power woes or Real Life or somewhat. Glad to see you here. Your review brought a smile. I love the in-depth analysis and the encouragement is very welcome. The writing is still not flowing as smoothly as it did, but at least it is flowing.  
  
Hai, another review that did not make it to my mailbox. Such a nice surprise! Yes, I do hope the Muse will let me know what happens to Pippin and his family in Minas Tirith. In "At the End of His Rope" I had Sam and Rose leave for the White City and wasn't going to write the journey or their stay, simply keep writing of events in the Shire until their return. But Things Happened... and those chapters wrote themselves in "Rope"... We can only hope.  
  
Aemilia Rose, thanks for the encouragement. I still have to take a deep breath before settling down to write Legolas and Gimli, but so far they have cooperated nicely with being written. Whew.  
  
Look for the epilogue to this story, if ff.net agrees, in two days, after which you will begin to see chapters of "Truth", the sequel.  
   
Look for the next chapter to "FirstBorn" (sequel to "Flames"), in case you are following that story, and if ffnet agrees, on the morrow. Thank you for your patience.  
  
***  
  
**45. Ah! Now I See, as I Go to the Marriage**  
  
Welcome!' Pippin called to the first of the coaches to drive up in front of the smials at Greenholm. He opened the door to greet his wife, handing out baskets of sleeping hobbit twins to eager helpers gathered to greet the arrivals. Diamond stepped down, followed by Faramir, Merigrin and Forget-me-not (who for the sake of convenience was often referred to as "Ruby"). Reginard stepped down next, to receive a hearty welcome from the Thain.  
  
'You're looking well, Regi,' he said.  
  
'I'm a whole new hobbit,' the steward answered, thumping his chest. He turned to hand down his own wife, who held her babe close since the little one had been fussy for the last mile or two.  
  
'Did you bring the rest of the family?' Pippin asked, quirking an eyebrow.  
  
'Coming behind in a waggon,' Regi said succinctly. 'With Ferdi and Nell's children, and a minder or two... if they haven't taken the waggon apart, that is.' Pippin looked to see a waggon crammed full of cheering hobbit tweens, teens and children, slowly easing down the steep hill, driver grimly holding on to the brake. 'Looks as if he'd like to let loose, get to the bottom swiftly, have it all over with.'  
  
Pippin laughed, and Regi added, 'Where are Fastred and Leotred? I thought they'd be here to greet us.'  
  
'They didn't want to take any chances,' Pippin said. 'You know it's bad luck to see the bride the day before the wedding.'  
  
'I should say we've used up the entire stock of bad luck to be found anywhere in the Shire,' Regi said.  
  
'Ah, but we used quite a bit of good luck to get past it,' Pippin answered.  
  
'That makes sense, somehow, which worries me,' Reginard said, and Pippin laughed again, then sobered to see the look on the steward's face. Regi was staring as Ferdibrand approached, hand in arm with Pimpernel, walking slowly with the aid of a stick.  
  
'Ferdi! You're up and about!' the steward said.  
  
'Reginard, good to see you,' Ferdi answered with a smile. 'They wouldn't be having the wedding were I not up and about... I am told it is my duty to dance with each of the brides in turn.' He smiled at his Nell, patted her arm. 'I have my wife's permission, of course.' Turning back to Reginard, he said, 'But you are much improved, it seems, from the last time I saw you.'  
  
Regi shot a questioning look at Pippin; the Thain shook his head.  
  
'How do you know?' Regi asked bluntly.  
  
Ferdi laughed. 'I still have ears, Regi. There's more life in your voice. You _sound_ well.'  
  
Though Ferdi's eyes had seemed to look right into the steward's, Regi had shifted his weight slightly and now the eyes were looking just past him.  
  
'It's true, then,' Regi said heavily, and Ferdi's eyes came back to him again as he spoke.  
  
'Of course it's true,' he answered. 'Who would jest about such a thing?'   
  
'What about the ent draught?' Regi asked.  
  
'No ent draught left, I'm happy to say,' Ferdi said jauntily. 'It's just as well; the stuff would probably kill me before it cured me.' Just then the waggonload of children pulled up and swarms of Nell and Ferdi's children suddenly surrounded them, generating too much noise and confusion for any further conversation to be heard.  
  
Waggon after waggon arrived, coach after coach, until the smials at Greenholm were bursting and tents had to be put up to house the overflow. From the top of the Downs, the arriving guests could see bright pavilions just outside the Bounds, where other wedding guests were lodging until the morrow.  
  
Near sunset, Pippin said to Samwise, 'Ah, this looks like your party.' Sam called to Frodo, and the two stepped forward to be ready to greet the Gamgees. Mistress Rose, Elanor and Rosie-lass were especially effusive in their greetings, hugging Frodo for a long time, exclaiming over him, while the younger Gamgees mobbed their father.   
  
'And Fas and Leot...?' Mistress Rose said.  
  
'Inside, of course, so as not to catch the slightest glimpse of the lasses,' Samwise said.  
  
'O Sam, but that's just an old superstition.'  
  
'Seems as if we can use all the luck we can get,' Sam said quietly, giving his wife a long hug. She looked sharply at him, but he merely shook his head with his "tell you later" look, and she let the matter drop.  
  
***  
  
The wedding day dawned bright and promising as the laughing hobbits hiked up the Great East Road, through the cleft that led up onto the Far Downs, followed by Men and Elves and a single dwarf. At Pippin's insistence, Ferdi rode pony-back up the hill, dismounting only when they reached the flower-strewn meadow where the wedding breakfast picnic would take place.  
  
King Elessar and Queen Arwen, the Crown Prince and the little Princesses, an honour guard of the finest King's Men, the Thain, the Master, the Mayor and their families, the King of Haragost, Cirdan the Shipwright and many of his elves, the sons of Elrond, Gimli, and Legolas, and many more mingled in a jolly crowd upon the green as course after course was served and wine and ale flowed freely. Songs were raised, stories told, jokes prompted laughter, blessings were spoken.  
  
As the Sun approached the highest point of her journey through the autumn sky, Pippin refilled Ferdi's glass and helped him to his feet. 'A toast!' the chancellor shouted, holding his glass high. The crowd quieted. 'Laugh long!' he said. 'Live long!'  
  
'Hear, hear!' Gimli shouted.  
  
'I'm not finished yet!' Ferdi shouted good-humouredly. Everyone laughed, then obediently quieted again. 'Should I start over?' Ferdi called.  
  
'No!' several hobbits shouted.  
  
'Very well, then,' Ferdi said sternly. 'Heed my words.' He waited until stillness reigned, and only the sound of the wind disturbed the silence. 'Love forever!' he shouted at last, lifting his glass high, drinking to the couples who were about to be married. With a shout of acclamation, the rest of the crowd followed suit.  
  
Mayor Samwise gave his wife's hand a squeeze as they picked their way to the flowery hollow where the Thain waited. Soon a laughing crowd of hobbits carried their daughters to them, setting them down, flower crowns adorning their heads tipped awry. Rose quickly straightened them again, kissing each daughter's cheek, tears sparkling in her eyes. 'Go with grace,' she said.  
  
'And you, Mum,' Rosie-lass and Elanor said in unison, then turned to hug their father, finally ending one on each side of him, each holding a hand.  
  
Thain Peregrin turned to them, saying, 'Are we ready?'  
  
'No,' Mayor Samwise said. 'What father is ever ready to give his daughters away?'  
  
'Dad!' Elanor said, shocked, and he smiled down at her. 'Ah, Ellie,' he said. 'To think that just yesterday Mr Frodo was dandling you on his knee...' Looking back to Pippin, he said, 'We're ready as we'll ever be.'  
  
The Thain nodded and took his place. The crowd of guests found places surrounding the brides and their parents. The hobbits stood to hear the vows, of course, but all the Big Folk politely sat themselves down so as not to impede anyone's sight.  
  
Last came Fastred and Leotred, Ferdi between them, walking slowly to favour Ferdi's healing leg. They had argued over which of them he would stand up with at the wedding, and he had solved the problem by airily proposing that he stand with them both... 'That's why I'm so valuable to the Thain, you know,' he'd added with a twinkle in his eye. 'I am so good at proposing solutions to problems.'  
  
They stopped before Samwise, Rose, and their daughters. 'We're ready,' Pippin said, to give Ferdi a clue as to where he was.  
  
'Hullo, Nell, 'tis a fine day to be wed,' Ferdi said to the air, turning his face towards Elanor as she answered him.  
  
'Yes, indeed, Uncle Ferdi.'   
  
He held out his hand, and Sam put Elanor's hand into his, and then Ferdi guided her hand in the general direction of Fastred, finding his hand held ready, placing Elanor's hand into her love's. 'There,' he said. 'Did I get it right? We're not about to marry Nell to Leotred, are we?'  
  
'No, Ferdi,' Elanor laughed. 'Not hardly!'  
  
'Now for you, Rosie-my-lass,' Ferdi said. 'Speak up, girl!'  
  
'I'm here,' Rosie said, laughing through her tears. He found her hand and safely delivered it into Leotred's with a sigh. 'There's a job well done,' he said. Fastred pressed his stick into his hand, and Ferdi limped to where he'd heard Pippin speak.  
  
'Right here,' Pippin said in a low voice, to guide him, and he stopped beside the Thain, turning to witness the wedding vows.  
  
A small bird chased a larger one across the sky, and Fastred squeezed Elanor's hand. 'Merlin?' she whispered. He nodded. Somehow, it seemed a good omen.  
  
The Big Folk listened to words, new to them, that the hobbits had heard at wedding after wedding for as long as they could remember, as the four hobbits repeated solemnly after the Thain, promising...  
  
'...to seize each moment, to live to the fullest the love that's between us...'  
  
'...to refuse no joy set before us...'   
  
'...that each day might be a golden coin to add to the treasure trove of our love...'  
  
Elladan felt eyes upon him. Turning his head slightly, he found Elrohir regarding him quizzically. He smiled, nodding significantly as the vows reached their end.  
  
'...until I've drunk the last drop in the cup, and no more days remain to me... as long as life shall last, until I take my last breath of the sweet air.'  
  
The vows came to an end, and there was a long silence as all pondered their meaning. Arwen leaned against her husband's arm. 'Such a lovely ceremony,' she whispered, and he smiled back at her, remembering the choice she had made to be with him.  
  
'As long as life shall last...' the Thain repeated solemnly, then smiled. 'Ladies and gentlehobbits, Big Folk and Little Folk alike, allow me to present to you two new families of the Shire!'  
  
Fastred met Elanor's gaze and squeezed her hand as a cheer went up. They had each left a family behind and joined into something new, something that had never been before... their own family, to endure... forever.  
  



	46. Epilogue

Notes to Readers:   
  
Thanks for the reviews! Very helpful, quite motivating.   
  
I cannot believe it, the final chapter.  
  
Admin Notes: This chapter in this story takes place four years after the wedding. It is an epilogue showing how the Warden of the Westmarch is finally established. Think of it as a glimpse into the future... the next story begins three years after the wedding, so if you decide to continue along this timeline with me, please don't be confused by the leap forward and then back... Speaking of the next story, it is called "Truth" and will be posted alternating with "FirstBorn", in the same way "Merlin" and "Flames" have been posted. Handy, for each of the stories to have a sequel...  
  
O, and by the way, I am now posting new chapters simultaneously to ffnet and www.storiesofarda.com. So if ffnet has a bad day, hopefully you can still get your update of the continuing saga...  
  
Notes to reviewers: (O such a lovely bunch of reviews, i have stuck them in a vase on the mantel and their perfume is making the Muse smile as she mutters away in the corner.)  
  
Xena, Ferdi's toast comes from hobbit tradition (I forget which wedding in which story had it first), very handy, having something I don't have to think up new. And I never thought of it that way--the groom walking down the aisle! Funny!  
  
Aemilia Rose, yes, the sequel is called "Truth", and it is very close to being finished. I could actually call it "finished" in chapter 17, but do want to tie up some loose ends, so there will be at least one more chapter of it, I hope.  
  
FantasyFan, your review was very encouraging. I must admit I love hearing what you love, and even though I want to be all grown-up about constructive criticism (and I know by experience it leads to a stronger story), it still makes me blink. Glad nobody noted any problems this time.  
  
PansyChubb, so good to hear from you again. Sorry to hear about your keyboard. Hot chocolate can do that.  
  
eiluj, thanks for the analysis of hobbit ages, I feel better about marrying Rose off so young. I was afraid I might be stretching the limits of canon, but if Lobelia married so young, then certainly Rosie-lass ought to be able to.  
  
Dana, thank you! I love the way you can still have something to say in a review after listening to the rough draft and revisions.  
  
Bookworm, I think in pictures, so I'm right with you.  
  
Hai, you're most welcome. Actually in one sense there is very little left to this story (this chapter), and yet... the sequel is due to begin the day after tomorrow, ffnet allowing. If you cannot access ffnet on Monday, check for "Truth" on www.storiesofarda.com  
  
Look for the next chapter to "FirstBorn" (sequel to "Flames"), in case you are following that story, and if ffnet agrees, on the morrow. Thank you for your patience.  
  
***  
  
**46. Epilogue**  
  
_Four years later..._  
  
Mayor Samwise sat back in his chair, sipping his ale. 'You have given me good reports on Fastred over the years,' he said.  
  
'Indeed,' the Thain answered. 'He is one of my most trusted hobbits.' He shook his head. 'He is wasted in the Smials, really. I wish I could give him something he could really sink his teeth into.'  
  
'The Westmarch?' Sam asked quietly.  
  
Pippin was silent, sipping at his own ale, but he finally answered. 'The thought had crossed my mind. Everard is a competent administrator, but he's chafing to get back to engineering full-time. I'm afraid he'll dig out so many smials under the Tower Hills that the hills will collapse, unable to sustain the weight of the towers any longer.'  
  
'Ah,' Sam said, sipping his own ale. Reginard rose when he saw the Mayor's glass half empty and poured more.  
  
'Trying to ply me with spirits?' Sam said, lifting an eyebrow. 'Make me tractable to some suggestion?'  
  
'Save us!' Pippin replied. 'If I did have a suggestion...' he let the thought go and sipped at his ale again.  
  
'I was thinking that you might want to name Fastred to Warden of Westmarch,' Sam said calmly. He caught Pippin unawares, and the other choked on his ale, apologising profusely as soon as he got over the coughing fit, while Regi turned his attention from slapping the Thain's back to mopping up the spill.  
  
Getting control of himself, Pippin said, 'I cannot believe you'd suggest it! One of the reasons I offered Fastred a position here at the Smials was so that Ellie would not be taken so very far away, especially with Rosie gone to Greenholm.'  
  
'I know,' Sam said, 'but I've talked it over with Rose, and she agrees. You have to let young folk go, eventually, make their own way. 'Twill be hard to let that fine grandson go so far away, but the Mayor's job is a travelling one, and I'm sure to get out to Undertowers fairly often. Quite a few hobbits have moved out that way, and they always seem to be having festivals to open....'  
  
'It is a rich land,' Pippin said quietly. 'They have much to celebrate.' He fixed the Mayor with a keen eye. 'Rose agrees with this?'  
  
'She does,' Sam said firmly.  
  
'Very well, then,' Pippin said. 'I'll take it up with the King next week when we go to the Lake.'  
  
'Thank you,' Sam said. 'I owe you one.'  
  
'You don't owe me a single thing; you're doing _me_ the favour,' Pippin returned. 'Fastred's the best hobbit for the job; Ferdi's been saying so for months, now.'  
  
'Is that so, Ferdi?' Sam asked.  
  
Ferdibrand sipped from his glass and turned towards the Mayor's voice. 'Of course it's so,' he said.   
  
'Fastred will make good in the job,' Pippin added.  
  
'Of course he will!' Ferdi maintained. 'I'm always right about these things.'  
  
'Yes,' Pippin said. 'I do believe you have the right of it.'  
  
'Didn't you just say that, Ferdi?' Sam asked.   
  
Ferdi laughed and raised his glass in a toast. 'To the future,' he said.


End file.
